But she’d stayed. At his side. Day and night.
Damn.
He’d had his share of women over the years, women who flaunted their charms and doled out their favors like currency.
Emma was different. She didn’t realize the power of her soft mouth to rob a man of coherent speech. She’d reacted to his touch with unpracticed emotion. Incredible. Out of all the women he’d ever met, Emma had the most reason to hate him.
But she didn’t.
Somehow, someway, she’d come to care about him.
In the long run, it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference. Emma would never be his. If he took her to bed, he’d steal something precious from her, something he didn’t deserve. And once she found out the truth—green eyes, hardened by anger and hurt, flashed before him. He’d rather be staked out to an ant hill in Death Valley than see her look at him like that. Whatever tender feelings she held for him would shatter as irreparably as fine crystal flung against a brick wall. She’d never trust him. Hell, she’d probably hate his guts.
But he’d done what he had to do. He’d kept her away from Staton. Once she was safely home, he’d drink himself into oblivion and try his damndest to obliterate the memory of her scent, the feel of her in his arms.
Toweling the soap from his face, he glanced out the window. His partner trudged toward the house, arms loaded with split wood. So, Miranda had already begun to put Dunham through his paces. She wasn’t about to let a healthy man sit idle when there was work to be done. She had no trouble giving orders, even when the person she bossed around was a full foot taller than herself.
He needed to brief his partner on the threats they faced and determine what Dunham had learned from their contacts, the sooner the better. They needed to be prepared to defend Emma. The DuBois brothers wouldn’t rest. They’d catch up to them. The only question was when.
* * *
“Our mission has changed.” Leaning against the barn door, Dunham lowered the brim of his slouch hat to shade his eyes. “Grant needs us back in the field. There’s big trouble brewing.”
A regiment thudded through Cole’s gut, stomping their boots for good measure. “What does he expect us to do with Emma, leave her to these bastards?”
“We need to get her back to Washington. She’ll be the senator’s worry then.”
“She’s in more danger than ever. Does he realize that?”
Dunham’s head bobbed slowly. “Winning the war’s his concern, not the senator’s daughter. Before we arrive, Senator Davenport will have additional fortifications in place. Emma won’t need us watching over her.”
An imaginary soldier plunged a bayonet in Cole’s gut. “Yeah, we see how effective the guards were before. She walked right by ’em.”
“There’s nothing to be done about it. The information in that book we took from her…” Dunham rubbed his jaw like he had a hell of a toothache. “Nightshade is a hell of a code breaker, but we can’t decode some of it without a cipher key. But what we did uncover…if she knew what was on those pages, she’s a traitor.”
The blade in Cole’s belly twisted deeper. “And if she didn’t?”
“Either way, she’ll be safer in Washington than here. Whether she’s in on it or not, Staton will want her dead. At least in the city, she can be protected.”
“What the hell’s in that book?”
Dunham kneaded his jaw again. “What isn’t might be a better question. Every page has something on it. The code is sophisticated, but Nightshade broke most of it. All except the missing pages. That’s a damn mystery.”
“And the inscription?”
“Best as we can tell, there’s a double meaning. The crap about the twins reigning…well, that’s talking about the DuBois brothers, but there’s more to it than that. The twins also refers to the stars in the sky. Pierre DuBois believes the stars hold the key to their destiny. They were born in early June, when the sun was in the constellation Gemini—the twins. Nightshade figures it’s code for the timing of an attack or theft. The next new moon is June fourth.”
“Two weeks from now.”
“We’ve got less than a fortnight to find out what the bastards are up to and try to stop it. But we can’t do that here.”
“But what about the rest of the inscription. Souls divided and a heart…what was that horseshit about a heart?”
“Guard well the heart that binds you to me,” Dunham supplied. “Nightshade suspects it’s code. Maybe for the location of the key.”
Emma’s face flickered in his thoughts, quick as a gunshot. Another image flashed in his mind’s eye. Her slender fingers, fiddling with the buttons on her infernal high-necked dress. Touching the delicate links of a gold chain, toying with the locket suspended from the thin filigree.
A rose gold locket in the shape of a heart.
“Son of a bitch.” Tension coiled in his belly. She’d known. She’d known the whole time. One of the invisible soldiers slammed a boot in Cole’s gut. He pounded his fist against the barn door. The wood shuddered beneath the impact, but the pain in his hand did nothing to alleviate the vicious blow to his insides. “Guard well the heart. Jesus, it’s been right under our noses.”
Dunham tipped up the brim of his hat. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The cipher key. She’s had it the whole time.”
“Where is it?”
Cole started toward the house, his long strides making short work of the distance between the barn and the house.
“It’s in her goddamn necklace.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Drawn by the sunshine and a sky that might have inspired an artist’s landscape, Emma tied on a bonnet and hurried outside. She wandered the grounds, content to enjoy the beauty of the day. She’d spent so many hours cooped up inside Cole’s sickroom, the fresh air and warmth were a tonic for her spirits.
She heard Cole before she saw him. “You knew what was in that book, didn’t you?”
His partner on his heels, he closed the distance between them. Against a complexion that had only started to regain its natural coloring, Cole’s amber eyes darkened. The intensity—and anger—radiating from his gaze rippled through her core straight to her heart.
“What are you talking about?” She kept her voice strong and steady despite the quaking of her pulse.
He stood so close, the tips of his boots brushed her shoes. Staring down at her, he caught her forearm, his fingertips pressing into her flesh. Without violence, yet without a shred of gentleness.
“The book Staton gave you—you knew we couldn’t decode it. Where did you hide the cipher key?”
Struggling to ignore the tiny tremor in her lower lip, she lifted her chin. “I believed it to be a volume of poetry, nothing more. I’ve already told you that.”
“You expect us to believe you didn’t know what you had?” Uttered in low tones that rasped like a flint against stone, each word seemed a blow.
Ice encased her heart, even as anger heated her cheeks. Who was he to question her as though he were conducting an interrogation? He was nothing but a scoundrel, a man who’d used her for his own devices with no intention of ever communicating his purposes. For heaven’s sake, she didn’t even know his name. And yet, he dared to look at her like that—as if she were nothing more than a lying, deceitful Jezebel.
To hell with him.
His touch suddenly seared her, and she pulled away.
He made no move to reclaim her. No, what he did was far more telling. He simply studied her, as though inspecting her for some clue as to the nature of her deception.
Steve stepped forward. Indigo eyes clouded with doubt stared back into hers.
“Miss Davenport, where is your necklace?” His tone was solemn, his voice soft and gravelly. The drawl he’d flaunted seemed to have vanished. Whatever set Cole into this foul temper had troubled his partner as well, though his gaze bore no trace of censure.
“My locket…why on earth…?”
Steve dragged a hand through his hair. “We need to see it. We suspect there’s something there.”
“If you wish to view a portrait of Frederick, you’ll find a miniature within the case. I would have thought you’d know what the man looks like.”
“There may be something else.” Cole’s tone was stilted, as though he struggled to speak with a level of civility. “Something Staton needs.”
“And I presume you need it as well?”
“It would be a mighty big help in figuring out what Staton and his cohorts are up to,” Steve said. “We need to see it.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Don’t put us in that position.” The expression in Cole’s eyes left no doubt as to his implication.
“Do you really believe taking my necklace would be of any consequence after what you’ve done?” She shot him a glare beneath her lashes. “You’ve already taken far more than that.”
Steve stiffened. He canted his head toward his partner. “What the hell…what did you do to her?”
“Can’t you see what she’s up to? Divide and conquer.” Cole turned his focus on her. “That’s her strategy. But it’s not going to work. You can either give us the locket, or I’ll take it off your pretty neck. The choice is yours.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears, the blood roaring through her brain like a rain-swollen stream. She worked the buttons at her throat free, tearing the collar open.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” She gritted the words between her teeth. “So sorry to disappoint you.”
Cole eyed her throat. “Where is it?”
“In a safe place. Go ahead—search my things. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Steve slowly shook his head. Was that regret in his eyes? “Miss Davenport, this isn’t a game. We need you to get that necklace.”
“As you wish.” She snatched up her skirts and stormed back to the house, the men close behind. Emma whipped around, meeting Cole’s eyes. “Are you so afraid I’ll escape that you trail me like a dog chasing down a fox?”
“You’re not going anywhere. You had your chance. You should have taken it.”
His words sliced through the haughty shell she’d erected around herself. The arrogant jackass certainly knew how to cut to the quick.
“For once, we are in agreement.”
Mounting the stairs, she hurried to her chamber with the men close behind. Once inside, she rooted around her traveling case. She cast a glance over her shoulder. Distrust etched Cole’s features, carving another slash in her heart.
The breath she hadn’t realized she’d held escaped in a huff as her fingers closed around the folded handkerchief. She placed it in Steve’s open palm.
“I trust you won’t damage this.” Slanting Cole a cutting glare, she added, “This locket has great value to me.”
Steve unfolded the cloth and dangled the necklace between them. “Who gave this to you?”
“Frederick, of course.”
“Did he give it to you while he was in Washington?”
She shook her head. “No. He had a courier bring it to me.”
“And you didn’t find that peculiar?” Cole’s words echoed the suspicion in his eyes.
“Why would I find it odd that a man wanted to give me a gift?” She allowed her gaze to linger on his face. “Perhaps you find tokens of affection absurd. One would need to feel fondness for a woman to understand, I suppose.”
Steve opened the case with a flick of his thumbnail against the clasp. He pulled a small knife out of his pocket. “Anything from Staton is more likely to hold venom than affection.”
“What are you doing?” Emma’s voice sounded small and defeated to her ears, though she suspected she already knew his purpose.
“Following a hunch.” Steve inserted the tip of the blade between the portrait and the frame, prying loose the miniature of Frederick’s not-quite-smiling face.
The portrait fluttered to the floor. He slid the blade deeper inside the case, loosening a small square of paper. Icy claws squeezed her heart. Had Frederick used the locket to deceive her?
Steve unfolded the square and studied it with a look of grim recognition. His gaze shot to Cole. “You were right. It’s a cipher key. This should allow us to make sense of the code in the book.”
“Good heavens.” The floor swayed beneath Emma’s feet. Tiny bursts of white flickered around her, and her breath caught. Oh, dear. This wasn’t possible. She couldn’t have been so foolish. She couldn’t have been carrying military secrets, secrets that would be devastating to the Union.
Strong arms braced her. She inhaled Cole’s scent. His essence enveloped her with a sense of security, a deep-seated trust unlike any she’d ever known.
“Take a breath, Emma.” His voice had lost its coating of frost, the raspy cadences husky and soothing against her ear. “I’ve got you.”
Still, the white bursts bombarded her. She couldn’t see. Couldn’t hold her balance. Shamelessly, she leaned on him, trusting his strength, drawing comfort from his nearness.
He led her through a few sidelong steps, then guided her back until her calves touched the quilt. Slowly, he eased her onto the bed.
“Lie down. Rest.” Strange, the caring in his tone, so unlike the harsh notes that marked his words moments earlier.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her chin on her hands. Tiny stars swam beneath her lids, closing in on her, as though she were trapped in a tunnel from which there was no escape.
“You didn’t know you had this?” Steve’s voice this time, calm and surprisingly gentle.
Opening her eyes, she gulped against the piercing burr in the back of her throat. “I had no idea.”
The heat of Cole’s hand seeped through the cotton covering her shoulder. “When did you receive this necklace?”
Inhaling a breath that filled her lungs, she released the air through her mouth. The cloud of stars faded, but her head ached as though she’d collided with a low-hanging chandelier.
“Not long before I left Washington. He sent it with the book and instructions for the journey to St. Louis.” The burr sprouted again, bigger and more prickly. “I was such a fool.”
Cole moved from her side. Leaning against the dresser, he studied her silently. The anger in his eyes had cooled, but his jaw remained set as his partner examined the cryptic markings on the paper with an ever deepening frown.
“Tell me the truth,” Cole said quietly. “Did you hide the cipher key in the necklace?”
The question sliced through her like a hot dagger. “I already told you I didn’t know I had it.”
“Emma, we know you searched your father’s study the night you left.”
“How would know that?”
“That doesn’t matter. But you were looking for something that night. What were you trying to find?”
The taste of bile sickened her. How could he believe she’d committed such an unforgivable act? Her pride begged her to rebuff his interrogation, but she needed to tell him the truth. She had nothing to hide.
“I did look through my father’s desk. And his cabinet, as I recall.”
“What were you after?”
“This.” She retrieved a small leather case from the interior of her satchel. “I trust you’ve already seen this. Heaven knows you’ve been in my traveling bag more than I have.”
Gently taking the case from her hands, he opened the button closure and removed the daguerreotype she’d so carefully guarded. His brows settled into a solemn line as he stared down at the smiling beauty and strapping young man depicted in the portrait.
“Your mother and father,” he said.
“On their wedding day. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to go home again. I wanted…I needed some part of them with me.”
He placed the portrait back into the case and pressed it into her hand. “You took nothing else?”
“No.” Tears pricked the back of her eyes. Damn this man and his horrid
accusations. He’d kissed her with such passion, and all the while, he’d believed her a traitor. “Not a dratted thing.”
Cole raked a hand through his hair, looking as though he felt as gutted as she did. “I’m sorry, Emma. I had to ask. I had to know the truth.”
“And you actually believe me? How very benevolent of you.”
He closed the distance between them. His hands took hold of her shoulders. Gently, yet with a strength that was undeniably comforting.
“Staton tricked you, Emma. The son of a bitch gave you a gift he knew you wouldn’t leave behind. Once you were out of Washington, Staton’s men intended to retrieve the book and the locket at their first opportunity. If we hadn’t taken you off that train, they would have grabbed you at some point along the route. You were never meant to reach St. Louis.”
* * *
Cole crouched by Emma’s perch at the edge of the bed. Reaching to touch her because he couldn’t help himself, he smoothed a few wayward strands from her face. She’d either given the best performance he’d ever seen, or the devastation in her eyes was all too real.
Was her distress rooted in the discovery that she’d ferried classified military documents from Washington, or had the truth of Staton’s motives crushed her hopes of a lasting liaison?
Or was Emma as skilled at duplicity as the yellow dog she’d planned to marry?
“We’ll leave you alone for a bit,” he said, walking to the door. “You need some time to collect yourself.”
Signaling his partner to join him, Cole headed outside. “You need to leave as soon as you can. Take the necklace and the cipher key with you and head back to Nightshade. See what she can make of it.”
Dunham’s brow furrowed. “You think I need the necklace? We have the key.”
“Who knows what’s engraved on that thing? There’s probably nothing there, but we can’t take a chance. Staton’s used every available means to transport information. Don’t underestimate the son of a bitch.”
Dunham’s gaze flickered to the house, to the white-curtained window of the room Emma occupied. “What about her?”
“I’ll take care of her.”
“You sure about that?” Dunham eyed him as cautiously as a man encountering a wolf on the prowl.
Secrets, Spies & Sweet Little Lies (Secrets & Spies) Page 21
