Silken Promises

by Lisa Bingham

  “A little too far? A little too far! Ladies, I don’t think you understand the ramifications of your actions!”

  “We said we were sorry.”

  “Sorry! Tampering with the railroad is a federal offense!”

  “Really?” Amelia gazed at her sister in amazement “I had no idea. Had you, Sister?”

  “We didn’t kill anyone.”

  Amelia blanched. “They’ll put us in prison.”

  Alma sniffed. “Poppycock. No court in the land would convict us.”

  Probably true. A jury would take one look at their sweet, elderly faces and spun-sugar hair and deem them incapable of any malicious behavior. But they’d trot them off to the nearest asylum without blinking an eye.

  As a federal marshal, he’d just heard their confessions. It was his duty, his job to see these little old ladies brought to justice. What was he going to do?

  Good hell almighty.

  “Stay here,” he growled, lunging from the chair.

  “But—”

  “Just stay until I come for you.”

  Jacob had taken little more than three steps into the hall when Fiona caught his arm and dragged him into her own suite.

  “Well?”

  “They did it. Good hell, they did it. They admitted as much to me without batting an eyelid.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “What can I do? The Beasleys have committed a crime.”

  “They thought they were helping you.”

  “That doesn’t excuse the offense.”

  She glared at him. “Do you mean to tell me that you would turn them in? That you would send two old women to prison?”

  “Dammit, Fiona. Don’t you think I’m aware of the consequences? Don’t you think I’d do anything to avoid this situation—”

  “Then—”

  “—short of breaking the law myself?”

  “Is following the strict letter of the law so important to you that you can’t bend the rules a bit?”

  “Yes!” He slammed his fist on the door jamb. “I learned through experience the danger of taking such power into my own hands.”

  She frowned in disbelief. “The high and mighty Jacob Grey once strayed over the lines?”

  “Don’t mock me, Fiona.” He pointed a finger in her direction. “You know nothing about me, nothing about my concerns as a lawman.”

  She slapped his hand away. “Are you trying to tell me that sending two old ladies to jail is the most pressing worry you have? What about my father’s murderer? And that man at the hospital, and—”

  “Dammit!” He grasped her elbow, pulling her close, his expression fierce. “Don’t you know that’s been preying on my mind for hours? Days? Curse Darby Kensington, curse his phony money. I don’t care about his petty crimes! Don’t you see? The vigilante group I told you about has reorganized. Its leaders, Judge Krupp and Gerald Stone, have ordered the Star Council of Justice to begin a reign of terror. No one’s safe—especially not my family and those I associate with. Do you think I give a hoot in hell about the Beasleys and their stray stick of dynamite?”

  “The Star Council?” Her brow furrowed. Somewhere she’d heard about such a thing, but the memory was incredibly vague.

  He sighed, striding toward the window, watching below, always watching. “Ten years ago, I was approached by fellow lawmen about the growing number of criminals we knew who had broken the law and were abusing the judicial system for their own protection. We decided to… take care of them ourselves.”

  She gasped. “But that’s—”

  “Illegal.”

  She sank into a chair. “Never, in all my born days, would I have expected you to admit such a thing.”

  “I was young. Cocky. I thought I knew enough about judicial matters and my companions that the end result would cancel the means.”

  “What happened?”

  “A rash of robberies was sweeping the area, and the Star Council decided that one person was responsible. Although no real proof had been gathered against him, Ethan McGuire was slated for execution.”

  “Ethan! Lettie’s husband?”

  He nodded. “They weren’t married at the time—in fact, it was Lettie who hid Ethan away so that he couldn’t be captured. I was a deputy at the time, and so sure that the Council was doing the right thing. Because of my blind obedience to the group, I nearly sent an innocent man to his death. Luckily, some information was leaked to me implicating my superior, Judge Krupp, his assistant, Gerald Stone, and several other members of the Star Council of Justice for their own crimes. After further investigation, it became apparent that the group was being paid to murder political adversaries and influential businessmen. They wanted Ethan dead because of information he knew about some of their group members. They were even willing to kill Lettie to get to him.”

  “You were part of this?”

  “I’m not proud of the fact.”

  “But you brought them to justice.”

  “I sent them to jail. A jail from which they escaped. Since that time, they have made it patently clear that they mean to have their revenge on all of those involved in capturing them.”

  “Dub Merritt?”

  “Krupp had to see to it that the only witness of his escape didn’t live.”

  “My father…”

  “Somehow, Krupp must have discovered that I had put McFee in the hotel for safekeeping. His death was probably due to no more than an effort to hurt me, though I don’t know for sure.”

  Fiona’s hand trembled slightly as she touched her lips. “You know the Star Council was responsible for my father’s death?”

  He regarded her sadly, then withdrew a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket. “This was found on the floor by his body.”

  Fiona slowly opened the missive, knowing what she would find, what she would see: an eight-sided star with the letters SCJ imprinted inside. Long ago, she’d heard stories of the vigilante group and how Jacob had brought it to justice. The importance of the symbol she saw had been buried in her brain, waiting for the right jog to free it.

  “Another similar note was found at the scene of Dub’s murder.”

  “No,” she whispered. “No. I—” Horrible thoughts raced through her mind, dangerous conjectures. The fob: The same marking had been etched on the fob. Was Darby somehow connected with this nebulous vigilante group?

  “What about Darby?”

  “He has nothing to do with the group. I would have known if he was one of the original members.”

  But what if he had joined up with Krupp and his men in the last little while? She didn’t say the thought aloud, but it reverberated in her brain. Dear sweet heaven, what had she and her father fallen into? The more she became embroiled in this assignment, the more intricate became the extent of Kensington’s lawbreaking, the more complicated his plots, the more nefarious his contacts.

  She opened her mouth, ready to tell Jacob what she knew, then paused. If Jacob had any idea that Darby was connected with the Star Council, he wouldn’t let her go. The thought pierced her consciousness like a thunderbolt. If she were to help in uncovering her father’s killer—or possible killers—she would have to remain silent, bide her time, and do her own little bit of investigating.

  For now.

  Fiona stood with her ear pressed to the door, listening as Jacob finished giving instructions to his men.

  “We’ve been ordered by Carruthers to continue with our original plans, despite Krupp’s escape. I know some of our own were killed, but it’s imperative that we all keep our minds on the matter at hand: capturing Kensington and shutting down his counterfeiting scheme.

  “Arthur, Jason. You and your crew take the passenger cars. We need a complete sweep of the occupants every thirty minutes—whether or not the train has stopped. Willis, Jackson, position your men in the boxcars beyond. I want at least six lawmen who can make a roving check at every stop. The railroad
has agreed to give us one extra boxcar for arms, horses, and ammunition. We’ll put that in position at the very end of the train, by the caboose.

  “Be warned: Kensington has to know that his trail is getting hot. You can’t be dressed like lawmen. You’ve got to look like tourists and weary travelers. Understand? Keep him in sight at all times, but subtly.”

  There were murmurs of agreement, then the group disbanded, one by one, slowly, carefully, some taking the rear stairs, a few the front, while others disappeared into rooms rented on various floors. Fiona had dared one peek and been amazed that a bunch of lawmen—a sort she’d always been taught to distrust—had appeared in her sitting room, wearing an assortment of costumes. Businessmen in tailored suits sat side by side with farmers and shopkeepers and untidy drifters.

  Once the door had closed on the last man, Fiona stepped from the bedroom.

  Jacob turned, his emotions bare in his eyes: worry, anticipation, pride. “You’re sure you want to go through with this?”

  “On two conditions.”

  One of his brows lifted. His lawman’s nature seeped into his stance as a kind of wariness.

  “Number one, you send the Beasleys home without any sort of prosecution.”

  “Fiona—”

  “Please. Do it for me if for no other reason. Give them my pardon.”

  He touched her cheek. “Fiona, I’ve bought their tickets home. They’ll be leaving the same day we do. However, in order to see them safely tucked away, you’ll be left without proper chaperones. There’s no time to find someone else. Your reputation could be damaged.”

  She smiled, tremulously, happily, reading far more into his actions than anyone else might. He was willing to overlook the letter of the law, just this once. He was willing to see the fuzzy gray in between the black and the white.

  “I’ll gladly suffer the consequences to my supposed reputation if they can leave unfettered.”

  “What’s your second condition?”

  She touched his chest, his wrist.

  “Make love with me. Show me there is still some tenderness left in a world gone mad, some good, some joy.”

  “Oh, Fiona.” He sighed. “Neither of us knew how far this would go, did we?”

  She shook her head.

  “I have no regrets.” He bent toward her, his eyes kindling deep inside. “No regrets at all.”

  As they kissed, Fiona sighed, stepping into his embrace, absorbing his strength, his scent, his tenderness. For the rest of her life, she would remember this infinite sensation of being loved.

  Loved? Yes. He did love her. She hadn’t changed her mind in that respect. He might never say the words, he might never admit the fact to himself, but she knew he loved her, and his adoration gave her the courage to go on, to put aside her grief, to work toward justice.

  He lifted free, and his broad hands framed her face. “I’ve never known a woman like you.”

  “One so frustrating?”

  “It only adds to your charm,” he teased, then became suddenly serious. “I’ve grown to depend on you, need you.”

  It was a powerful statement indeed coming from a man who was generally so implacable, so independent. Fiona could not prevent her sudden smile. Little did he know that with those words, he’d offered her more than she’d ever hoped to receive.

  When she didn’t speak, he caressed her cheek, her chin. “I don’t suppose you have anything you might… want to add?”

  “Only that you have been the first man to touch my heart.”

  Her simple answer must have taken him by surprise, for he became still, obviously mulling over the consequences of their shared declarations. The future must not have proved as terrifying as he had earlier supposed, because he grinned, then became sober again.

  “Trust me to take care of you.”

  “I do.”

  “Trust me to make things right.”

  “I do.”

  “Trust me to—”

  She placed her fingertips to his lips. “I do.”

  The blazing light that appeared in his eyes lit an answering fire in Fiona’s as well. His shortened breathing affected her own, his obvious yearning matched hers. So when he swept her into his arms, she went gladly. When he divested her of her clothing layer by layer, she surrendered quite willingly. And when he took her, body and soul…

  She knew she would never love this much again.

  Chapter 16

  “You’re beautiful.”

  After all that had happened to Fiona in the last few days, Jacob could scarcely believe how poised and lovely she appeared as she entered the sitting room.

  She smiled at the compliment, her head tilting ever so slightly to the side.

  “Do you really think so? Enough to capture Kensington’s attention?”

  “Yes.”

  Mr. Peebles had clothed her completely in navy blue. How the little man had managed to construct such an elaborate costume—as well as such an extensive wardrobe—in such a short period of time, Jacob had no idea. The tight basque-waisted woolen jacket coated her torso like a thin layer of ink, enhancing her slender arms, the voluptuous swell of her breasts, the wasp-thin span of her waist, and her full hips. From there, a woolen skirt had been draped and puffed, interspersed with strips of velvet and flounces of cool, rich silk that fluttered to the floor and spilled behind her in a slight train. Atop her head, a dainty stovepipe-shaped hat had been balanced over the riotous coiffure of curls. A thin net veiling failed to obscure her face but provided a sense of mystique with its jet-studded web.

  “Well, Jacob?” Alma demanded. “Isn’t she the most stunning creation you’ve ever seen?”

  “Stunning, just stunning,” Amelia echoed.

  Jacob couldn’t respond to the elderly women. Not without revealing to them how the breath had been knocked from his body and a rampant awareness had begun to pulse through his veins. For the first time since beginning this charade, he knew Fiona had the power to make people believe in her false identity. Jacob believed in the vision he saw. He could very well imagine Fiona McFee to be cultured, educated, wealthy.

  Spellbinding.

  “Let’s go.” His voice emerged much gruffer than he had intended. Alma and Amelia glanced at him for having failed to comment upon Fiona’s attire, and even Mr. Peebles appeared disappointed. But Jacob didn’t have time to pander to their whims. They had trains to catch.

  A collection of trunks filled with Fiona’s extensive wardrobe had been piled in the center of the room. Leaving them there for the host of hotel servants to fetch, Jacob flung open the door and waited for the entourage to pass through.

  Fiona paused in the threshold to mutter, “God protects children and the elderly. I hope He—”

  “As well as his most perfect creations.”

  At his words, she met his gaze. In that instant, Jacob knew what he’d said was true and he could no longer hold on to the compliment she so richly deserved to hear.

  “You are beautiful, Fiona.”

  Her eyes widened, becoming a dark, slumberous mixture of blue and brown.

  “Mr. Peebles made this—”

  “Mr. Peebles merely set the frame to the portrait.” Unable to help himself, he touched her cheek, remembering her passion, her giving, her devotion. “You are beautiful. Fiona. Especially in blue.”

  With that, he took her hand and laced his fingers between her own. Drawing her slowly behind him, he led her down the stairs. “Let’s be on our way. After all, we’ve a gambler to snare.”

  Her eyes sparkled in a way that made him suddenly uneasy. “Yes, we’ve a gambler to snare.”

  Her skirts lapped over the carpeted treads as she made her way. Jacob remained one step behind, his hand resting on the reassuring length of his pistol partially hidden by his jacket.

  Once at the bottom, she joined the Beasley sisters, her carriage regal. “Ladies… I believe we all have a train to catch. Shall we?�
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  She swept from the lobby out of doors, leaving Jacob to make arrangements for the transport of their luggage and the payment of the suite. By the time he’d finished, he discovered that Fiona, her chaperones, and her tailor had hired a carriage and were about to depart.

  “We’ll meet you at the station, Mr. Grey,” she intoned with great dignity, signaling to the driver to pull away from the curb.

  Jacob opened his mouth to order her to stay, but he found himself confronting little more than dust. Damn her hide, what was she up to? She knew he was supposed to remain with her. Especially now, after all that had happened.

  Mounting his own horse, he arrived at the station house mere minutes behind his charge, but Fiona was nowhere to be found.

  The fact caused a niggling worry to take root. Jacob was not a man prone to panic. He’d been entangled in situations just as life-threatening and stressful. But after thirty minutes, with the departure of the train imminent and still no sign of Fiona, he felt a measure of dread drop in his stomach like a stone.

  Had she changed her mind? Had the death of her father undermined her determination? They’d buried him that morning in a small grassy churchyard on the outskirts of town. Although she’d displayed a quiet grief, there had been no outbursts, no bouts of histrionics.

  “We’ve got to load, Jacob,” Rusty murmured at his shoulder.

  “Where’s Fiona?”

  “She isn’t in the car?”

  “No.” He scoured the platform, but amidst the swirl of humanity, he saw no amber curls, no navy suit. “Spread out. Find her!”

  Rusty signaled unobtrusively to the many deputies lining the siding. Jacob knew they would be scouring the area like the well-trained experts they were. If she was anywhere nearby, they would find her.

  “Jacob, when would you like Fiona to board?”

  He whirled to find Alma Beasley standing behind him, her chest puffed out like a pigeon, her eyes glittering with her final duties as Fiona’s protector.

  “Where in the hell have you been?”

  “In the ladies’ waiting room, of course. Fiona insisted on treating us to a cup of tea.”