A ripple went through the crowd. Cord saw everyone looking toward the doors leading into the ballroom, and he moved closer to see what was going on.
It was Jaime.
In front of him, just inside the terrace doors and unaware of his presence, a woman clutched her throat in surprise, then turned to whisper frantically to her husband, "My God, for an instant I actually thought it was Emily come back to life. I've never seen anyone else with hair that color till now. And she's wearing her dress too. How could anyone forget it, with those solid gold teardrops sewn into the bodice? She wore it to our gala, remember?"
Cord wasn't looking at the expensive nugget decorations. He was thinking how the turquoise shades of the watered silk gown matched Jaime's eyes. Lost in her beauty, he felt a heated rush to remember all those wondrous nights together beneath the stars.
He gave his head a vicious shake, commanding himself to concentrate on the moment at hand and not the past.
Blake escorted her proudly to the center of the room. Stanton joined them to clap his hands for attention before loudly announcing, "Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to present to you our guest, Miss Jaime Chandler, who's just arrived from Missouri. I'm sure you will all make her welcome."
Cord did not miss the way Blake hovered beside her, beaming. He didn't know much about Stanton's son. Some of the vaqueros called him cobarde, a coward, because he had once fainted at the sight of all the blood at the calaveras—the cattle slaughter pens. He preferred, it was said, to spend his time in the vineyards or vegetable gardens and stay away from the rougher side of ranch life.
And he was not the only one who noticed Blake's obvious infatuation with Jaime. The woman who had spoken earlier nudged her husband and remarked, "Well, now we know why Blake hasn't taken a wife. I always did say he was a momma's boy, and now he's found someone who looks just like her, I think we'll be receiving a wedding invitation soon."
Cord melted back into the darkness.
The evening wore on. From time to time, guests wandered out to the terrace but did not notice Cord where he stood, concealed. He was starting to think Blake and Jaime would not appear, when suddenly they did.
He listened while Blake gushed to Jaime over the way everyone was astonished by her resemblance to his mother. "They say I shouldn't let you get away, because you're so lovely, and I certainly don't intend to."
Cord could not help smiling to see how she quickly turned her head so Blake's kiss would fall on her cheek and not her lips.
With a sigh over her rebuke, Blake moved to stand at the wall and gaze out toward the sea. "I said I'd give you time, and I will, but it's hard when I love you more each day."
In the light spilling from the ballroom, Cord could observe her face. She did not look at all pleased.
With a deep groan of misery, Blake whirled to try and take her in his arms again, but she held him off. "Please, don't. You promised you wouldn't."
"I know, I know. It's just so hard. I'm sorry."
He walked away from her then, going to the other side of the overhang, and that's when Cord knew he had to make his move. He stepped from the darkness and into the light, holding his breath for fear Jaime would scream at the sight of him.
Her eyes widened. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Frantically, he shook his head from side to side, pressing a finger to his lips to signal for silence. Then he nodded toward the door, lifted his hand as though sipping from a glass, indicating she should get rid of Blake by sending him to get a drink.
She understood and called to Blake as Cord retreated.
"It's so nice out here. I'd like to stay awhile, but I'm thirsty. Would you get me some champagne, please?"
"Of course, darling. I'll be right back." He hurried to oblige.
As though wondering if her eyes had deceived her, Jaime approached the screen of eucalyptus cautiously, fearfully.
"It is you," she breathed in wonder.
"Hello, Sunshine."
She wondered if he could hear the wild pounding of her heart and put her hands behind her back so he wouldn't see how they were shaking. "What are you doing here?" she whispered thinly.
He knew there was no time for anything except getting right to the point. "Stanton Lavelle is the man who hired me to bring back the women. I work for him now as his bodyguard."
She gasped.
He rushed on. "I had no idea he was the man you were planning to see in San Francisco. If I had, I wouldn't have left you like I did."
Jaime fell back a step at the anguished memory of that morning when she had felt so degraded. "Why did you? Did you really think me no better than a whore?"
It was Cord's turn to be astonished. "What gave you that idea?"
"The money you left in my Bible. Remember our deal?" She laughed shortly, bitterly. "I was to be either your wife or your whore. Well, I'm certainly not your wife, but you kept your end of the bargain by paying your whore, didn't you?"
"That's nonsense. That was money the pioneers collected to pay me, and I wanted you to have it. I figured you were broke."
"I was. I am." She confirmed bitterly. "I was robbed in San Francisco. That's why I'm now beholden to the Lavelles."
He frowned. "There's a reason for Lavelle's benevolence. I've heard your father gave him a bogus map to a gold mine and Lavelle wants the real one desperately. He probably thinks you can lead him to the mine. You can't trust him."
"If not for him, I'd have no place to stay."
"You will," be vowed. "I'm going to try and-help you locate your father, and if I can't I'll see you're taken care of."
"Oh, I'll be taken care of." She lifted her chin a bit, starting to recover from the shock of seeing him. "According to Mr. Lavelle, my father's mine is full of gold. And all I have to do is give him the right map and let him mine it, and he promises to share it with me. But I'm not that naive. Not anymore," she added dryly.
"Then you have the real map?"
"That's none of your concern. You wouldn't help me when I asked, and now you want in on the gold. But I don't need you anymore, so leave me alone."
She had started to turn away, but he reached to grab her and yank her back. "You've got to listen. If Lavelle believes you've got that map, he'll stop at nothing to get it. And how do you know Blake isn't after it too?"
"He's not like his father. He can't stand him. Besides, he doesn't even want to talk about it."
"Well, do you have it?" he repealed impatiently.
"I'm not going to tell you."
"Damn it, Jaime, don't be so stubborn. What if your father is dead? What are you going to do then? You're at Lavelle's mercy unless you let me help you."
"I know what I'm doing, and believe me, I don't intend for Stanton Lavelle to get his hands on that mine. My father wrote me all about how he didn't trust him. That's why he gave him the bogus map in the first place. But if the investment had proved legitimate, he would have honored his pledge and paid his debt somehow."
"I think it's dangerous for you to keep staying here," Cord said tightly.
"I have nowhere else to go."
"Well, at least give me the map for safekeeping."
"No."
He had seen that look in her eyes before, the first night they met, when he'd told her he wouldn't take her to California. He knew her mind was made up now, as it was then.
"And why should I trust you anyway?" she challenged frostily.
He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly as he framed his answer carefully. "I can understand how you feel after things happened as they did, but believe me when I say it had to be that way."
She hated to ask but had to know. "Is there someone else?"
He laughed softly, tenderly. "No. You're special to me, Sunshine, and while I'm no good for you, you've got to let me help you out of this mess."
"I'm not sure." She wished her knees would stop knocking together.
"Blake is going to be back any time now. Make up your mind."
She
bit down on her lower lip, desperate to believe him. Despite all the time she had spent with Blake since arriving, she did not feel he cared whether she was ever reunited with her father. Yet in only a few moments of being with Cord, her world suddenly seemed so much brighter.
"All right," she whispered finally. "Where do you want to start?"
"First, we need to talk. I've got to find out from you as much as I can about your father. I'd like to read his letters if you have them."
Sarcastically, she asked, "Didn't you see them when you left my pay in the Bible?"
He flinched at the barb.
She went on to say she would allow him to read them but added, "I won't give you the map. And when I can, I'll see that you're rewarded for your help."
He thought if he didn't get away from her then and there he was going to throw caution to the wind and kiss her till they were both out of breath, because being so close to her was getting to him, damn it.
"I'm not interested in a reward. I just feel responsible for your being in this mess."
They stood for long moments in tense silence.
Neither heard, or noticed, when Morena stepped out on the little balcony above. Seeing them, she stepped closer, straining to hear, her face twisted with rage.
"Go," Cord said finally. "But slip back out here when you get a chance. Wait till no one is around and then come over here. I'll be waiting."
He gave her a little push away from him, but it was too late.
Blake had spotted them.
"What's going on here?" He rushed forward, handing Jaime her glass of champagne to free his hand so he could pull her back into the light. He looked at Cord suspiciously and could tell by the way he was dressed he was not one of the guests. "Who are you?" Then it came to him "I know. You're that hired gun of my father's, aren't you? What are you doing here, annoying Miss Chandler?"
"He... he's just doing his job," Jaime said uneasily.
"I saw him, and I was scared, and he was apologizing for frightening me, that's all."
Blake began leading her back toward the ballroom. "I'm going to speak to my father about this. I don't like his kind hanging around."
Cord settled back to wait for her to return whenever she could.
And while he waited, he would try his damnedest to stop thinking how good it would have been to have held her, kissed her....
* * *
Morena knew every inch of the mission. By the time she was old enough to learn of the Franciscans and how they had tried to convert her people to Christianity and the ensuing problems, the war between America and Mexico was over. The mission, like so many others built by the Spaniards, was abandoned, and she and the other Indian children had played there.
When she grew older, she had used the old chambers as a place to take men who were willing to pay for her voluptuous body. The money helped keep her family from starving, for her mother had many children but no husband. The Yahi men would not have her after she had slept with a white. Morena would close her eyes and pretend it was not a stranger violating her body but her husband making tender love. She would envision herself as queen of the mission, and never was it falling to ruins but always a palace in her mind.
She had watched from a distance when Stanton Lavelle came with all his money and power to buy the ruin, rename it Pointe Grande, and turn it into a most magnificent estate. One day, she dared sneak inside for a firsthand look, and that was when he saw her and, at once, knew he had to have her.
But Morena had wanted more than money from Stanton. She wanted to be his wife. And now the only thing stopping her was Blake.
It was because of Blake that Stanton would not let her go to the party. They'd had a bitter fight, with Morena throwing her worst tantrum ever, but Stanton would not relent and told her to keep away. He was running things this time, he had said firmly. She was to stay out of it.
But determined to at least watch the festivities, she had sneaked into a room with a balcony affording a partial view of the ballroom and terrace. That was how she happened to see Cord and Jaime and heard them plan to meet on the terrace later.
She intended to be there when they did. Because of her vast knowledge of the mission, she knew about the gouged-out places in the wall leading downward to the ballroom terrace. The Franciscans had built it as an escape route. The way was slippery, but she knew it well, for she often prowled around, watching Stanton, when he had no idea she was anywhere near.
She stepped onto the terrace.
Cord whirled about, gun drawn, hammer cocked, then burst out in disgust. "Morena. What the hell are you doing here?"
"You don't come to me anymore," she whispered petulantly. "So I have to come to you."
He holstered his gun. "It's over. Now get out of here before somebody sees you."
She had timed her arrival perfectly, for she had waited to make her presence known till she saw Jaime finally weaving her way back toward the terrace after Blake had been persuaded to dance with one of the other ladies.
And just as Jaime appeared, pausing to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light, Morena made her move.
She threw herself against Cord, crushing her mouth against his, arms twining about his neck as she clung to him.
Taken by surprise, he froze, only for an instant, but it was long enough for Jaime to arrive on the scene, and what she saw appeared to be a loving embrace between two very willing people.
At the precise instant Cord came alive to try and disentangle himself from Morena's frantic hold, he heard Jaime's soft cry of shock.
He whirled about, still trying to get Morena off him, but she was holding tight and babbling loudly about how he had to stop teasing her this way. He saw Jaime run back into the ballroom and caught a glimpse of her stricken face.
Finally, he managed to get a good grip on Morena's wrists and squeezed so painfully she had to let him go.
But Morena knew her scheme had worked. "You see?" she said gleefully. "If I can't have you, neither can any other woman."
Chapter 21
"I want you to know I'm upset by all this," Blake said tensely as the stagecoach bumped and rattled its way toward San Francisco. "At first, I was just worried about how mad my father would be if he found out I'd taken you on this trip. He said to keep you away from the mining towns, because they're no place for a lady, but that's the least of my concerns now, because I'm afraid you might actually believe what that old coot said."
Jaime, lost in her musings, stared out the window without really seeing the barren land.
She had persuaded Blake to take her by private stage to Drytown, an almost deserted place. At first, none of the prospectors hanging around the dilapidated saloon had wanted to talk. But she had wheedled and begged and was finally directed to an old man who was willing to speak his mind, saying he was too old to worry about the consequences. And besides, he had wanted to make clear, James Chandler had been his friend.
"And he won't no cheat like the men said who come looking for him. He told me that mine he'd invested in was salted. Gold chloride had been poured into drill holes to raise the assay value when the assessments went up, only he couldn't prove it."
"I'm not sure I understand what you mean."
Blake had spoken up then to explain grudgingly how even though a man bought stock in a mine, his investment sometimes did not stop there. He was still obligated to meet demands for assessments for machinery or deeper exploration if needed.
The old man's Adam's apple had bobbed up and down as he said excitedly, "That's what happened, for sure. James told me new capital was demanded, and he was told to come up with cash this time, instead of pledging his own mine. That's when he got mad and did some digging on his own and found out the drill holes had been plugged. He told me he was going to turn the man responsible in to the law, and that's the last time we ever talked. He just dropped out of sight."
"And men came looking for the mine later?" Jaime had asked.
"Yep. But they couldn't fi
nd it. James swore nobody ever would without the right map. He said he was going to make sure he saved it for his girl," the old man had added with a warm smile and a wink.
"This makes me sick," Blake cried suddenly, bringing Jaime back to the present. He was pointing out the window as they passed an excavation site. The hillside was gouged out, destroyed by high-pressure monitors blasting away into the earth to wash the gold-bearing gravel down into the waiting sluices. "There has to be a better way to search for gold besides tearing the earth apart," he grumbled.
Jaime made no comment, not wanting to engage in conversation just then. She was disappointed not to have found even one clue as to where her father might have gone. And hearing from someone else that Stanton Lavelle was suspected of being a swindler filled her with anger.
For the moment, however, she was tired and found herself wishing she could fall asleep to escape the misery, if only for a little while.
It had been several days since she had witnessed Cord and Morena locked in a torrid kiss. She had not said anything about it to Blake for fear he might suspect she had once been involved with Cord. That was her humiliating secret to try and forget.
Persuading Blake to leave the very next day, she'd not seen Cord since and hoped she never would again. Obviously, he had been trying to trick her into turning the map over to him so he could give it to Stanton. So now she wanted nothing to do with him ever again.
* * *
They stopped overnight at a way station, where Blake rented them each a private room. Early the next morning, they continued on their way, arriving at Pointe Grande just before dark.
Despite Blake's urging to rest awhile and calm down, Jaime found her way to Stanton's office.
Dreading the scene sure to come, Blake went with her.
Stanton met Jaime's fury with his own. "Where the hell have you two been? How dare you leave without telling me where you're going?"
Jaime did not wither beneath his threatening glare. Ignoring Morena, who lounged on the sofa wearing a revealing dressing gown, she recklessly unleashed all the anger that had been boiling since Drytown. "You are a swindler, Stanton Lavelle. Maybe I can't prove it, but my father could, and I think that had something to do with his disappearance."
Orchids in Moonlight Page 22
