Orchids in Moonlight (34 page)

Sitting down on the divan, she pressed her hands to her throbbing temples and told herself to calm down. Her first impulse was to go tearing back to Stanton and curse him for daring do such a thing; then she decided to wait. Right then, she was exhausted and knew she needed sleep so she could think straight, decide what to do next.

She undressed and put on one of Emily Lavelle's filmy gowns, then lay down to brood. She wished she could leave. But where could she go? Blake was her only friend. Cord Austin, damn him, had proved once again he could not be trusted.

Finally, despite the emotions churning inside her, she fell asleep.

* * *

Cord had managed to bribe one of the servant girls into telling him which room was Jaime's. The girl hadn't been interested in his reason for knowing, only with the money he paid her and his promise never to reveal she had told him.

He figured her door would be locked, and he wasn't about to announce herself formally by knocking. So, shortly after midnight, when all was quiet, he lowered himself from the roof by rope to her window.

It was closed but not locked and opened with a soft click.

Jaime stirred. She was not sleeping well.

He struck a match, and, in its flare, saw her and promptly blew it out. Without a sound, he went to her, placing a hand over her mouth.

Jaime instantly awoke in terror and tried to scream as she strained in the darkness to see her attacker.

"Don't scream."

She ceased her struggles as the familiar voice came to her through her panic.

He eased his hand up slowly.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered through clenched teeth, sitting up to push him away. She clutched the sheet beneath her chin. "Did you come back thinking I'd tell you where the map is since you couldn't find it?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked sharply.

"Stanton sent you, didn't he?"

"No. But you don't believe me, do you?"

"Why should I? You work for Stanton, and you were hoping you'd be able to convince me to turn the map over to you, but then when I saw you with that woman, you knew your plan was ruined. Now get out of here." Her voice rose menacingly.

He covered her mouth with his hand again, pressing her back against the headboard. "You're wrong. Morena had been spying and knew you were coming back. She chose just the right second to make sure you found us together. But that's not important now. I came here to tell you I've talked to some of Stanton's guards, and one of them let it slip, after I got him half drunk, that he and some of the others brought a man, an American, in here against his will. They left him with Stanton and never saw him again. Now that doesn't prove the man was your father, but it's something to go on, especially since I was able to get the guard to pinpoint the time: two years ago. He remembered because it was right after Emily Lavelle killed herself, and everybody was spooked over that."

As he spoke, Jaime had ceased to struggle, and he removed his hand. Lighting the lantern next to the bed, he could see how her room had been searched.

He turned back to her. "If you'll give me another chance, I'll do what I can for you."

She searched his face for some sign he was really telling the truth. "Do you swear Stanton didn't send you?"

"I swear it, Jaime. He doesn't even know we're acquainted. Morena may have told him we were talking at the ball, but if she did, he didn't think anything about it."

"All right," she said finally. "I'll give you another chance." She proceeded to tell him about her visit to Drytown and what the prospector had told her.

Cord listened quietly, then summarized. "Between what the two of us have learned, we've got reason to believe Lavelle had something to do with your father's disappearance but not enough to take to the law."

"But we can't give up," she said fiercely, blue-green eyes sparkling in the lantern's glow.

His laugh was soft, tender. "I think we've proved it's not our nature to do so."

Her face broke into a smile to remember how they had met and conquered the many challenges of the trail. And, in that poignant moment, Cord could resist her no longer.

He brought his mouth down to hers, hungrily covering it with his own.

Jaime could no more have stopped him than she could have turned back the tide that crashed recklessly on the rocks somewhere below her window. Her needs and wants thrummed in her pulses, shutting out everything but the welcome feel of his arms about her, the hot possession of his lips on hers.

From somewhere deep within, something warned she was opening herself for still more heartache, but she knew she had to risk that kind of pain for the exultation of the moment. Despite everything, she wanted him, loved him.

He had softened the pressure of his mouth, his tongue moving against hers in a sweet seduction she could not resist. Hesitantly at first, she reached for him, fingers pressing into the hard muscles of his back, a groan of need and want rising in her throat as he stretched out the length of him, drawing her down beside him.

She could feel evidence of his desire against her belly, and she strained yet closer to demonstrate her own.

He began to slide the gown from her shoulders, and she moaned softly, languorously, as he found her breasts. Lowering his head, his tongue grazed the sensitive nubs of her nipples, and she could feel them grow taut and swell. He took turns drawing them into his mouth.

She clutched at his hips, urging him closer. He maneuvered himself out of his trousers, while she caressed him. When he was naked, he claimed her mouth once more in a searing kiss. Her neck arched back as she gave herself up to the emotions he had created. In complete surrender, Jaime could feel the heat of her own body and reveled in it.

He raised his mouth slightly. She could feel his lips move, and she gloried in the sound of his deep and husky voice as he proclaimed, "I want you as I've never wanted another, Jaime."

He rolled to his back and took her with him, cupping her buttocks and pulling her tightly against him. She spread her thighs and allowed him to enter, a sigh of pleasure rocking from her very soul.

Over the grinding rolls and waves of ecstasy as he drove himself into her, Jaime rose from the exquisite sensation to torment herself with the reality of how he had only expressed his desire.

He had not, would not, speak the words she longed to hear, the same words she dared not utter to him.

Together they rode to the crescendo of their passion, and afterward he held her locked against him.

"I've missed you," he murmured finally, biting back the impulse to admit how he loved her.

"And I missed you," she whispered in return, squeezing her eyes tightly against the burning tears of frustration.

* * *

Morena stepped back, silently closing the door to the secret passage in the wall.

She returned the knife to the sheath strapped to her leg but did not immediately retreat, for she was too upset and knew she had to get hold of herself, lest she lose her way in the dark labyrinth that was the bowels of the mission.

Searching Jaime's room had been a waste of time, and Morena had returned to deal with her, despite Stanton's orders to let him handle it—but she had not counted on finding Cord in Jaime's bed, and now she was livid with rage.

Morena knew she could not tell Stanton, for she was not about to divulge the existence of the secret passage. Besides, she preferred to handle the situation in her own way.

But for the moment she could only wait.

There would be another time to send Jaime Chandler to meet her father—in hell.

Chapter 22

Between making love and talking, Cord and Jaime slept little. Finally, he knew he had to leave before the servants began stirring about. With a last searing kiss, he told her to let him take over the investigation. "All I want you to do is avoid further confrontation with Lavelle. Let him believe you're losing hope, giving up. As long as he thinks you aren't about to stumble onto anything and figures sooner or later he'll get his hands on the map, you're safe."

He left her then, climbing out the window and up the rope that would take him to the roof.

The room was silent. Rosy fingers of dawn picked away at the darkness, shadows bleeding farther away.

Jaime was warmed by the memories of the night just past, her lips bruised by his kisses, body tingling from passion spent.

He had talked, and she had listened. He admitted his involvement with Morena in the past, assuring her it was over.

Though nothing had been discussed about the two of them, no mention of anything beyond the moment, Jaime had silently resolved, with her head tucked on his muscular chest, his strong arms tight about her, that if this was all she could ever have of him, it would have to be enough. She would seize the present and dare not question the future.

When Enolita came to her door to announce that breakfast was served, Jaime was ready. She had dressed in a pink gingham dress—borrowed, of course, from Emily Lavelle's wardrobe. She had brushed her hair back and tied it with a ribbon. The finishing touch was to paste on a bright smile and swallow the anger that ever smoldered within to think how her father might have met his fate within these gloomy walls.

Suppressing a groan of disappointment to find Stanton sitting at the table, Jaime managed to murmur a pleasant "Good morning" and nod in his direction as Blake leaped to pull back her chair. She could not help wondering why Morena never appeared in the dining room. Probably Blake would not stand for it.

Waiting till her coffee was poured, Stanton declared jovially, "I hope you slept well and feel differently about things this morning, my dear."

Out of the corner of her eye, Jaime saw Blake draw up, as though anticipating another scene.

She stirred sugar into her coffee as she replied calmly, "Well, E must say it was disturbing to find my room ransacked." Turning to gauge his reaction, she was impressed by how he was able to appear genuinely surprised, even angry.

He looked from her to Blake with rage-widened eyes, his lips a thin white line. "I don't know anything about it, but you can rest assured I'll find out. Now listen to me." He faced Jaime once more, laying his hand, palm down, on the table in a beseeching gesture. "I want peace between us. As I said last night, I can understand your being upset, coming all this way to face such heartbreak and disappointment, but I swear to you I did not swindle your father, and I had nothing to do with his disappearance.

"Now we both know you have no money," he continued, "so the thing for you to do is accept my offer to buy your father's claim from you, because we both know you've either got the right map or you know the exact location. Now, frankly, I want you to know I'm taking a big risk. After all, if he would pledge with a bogus map, I wouldn't put it past him to pledge with ore that didn't really come from his mine. But for your sake, because I feel sorry for you, I'll buy you out.

"So just name your price," he finished magnanimously.

Blake was delighted. "That's wonderful, Jaime; it would solve all your problems. You can forget the past and get on with your life. And so can I," he added meaningfully, as he reached to take her hand.

Jaime was paying no attention to Blake, for she was fighting the urge to throw her coffee in Stanton Lavelle's lying face. If he hadn't ordered her room searched, who had? Certainly not Blake. Remembering Cord's instructions, however, she managed to sound apologetic as she declined. "I really don't want to make any decisions about anything for the time being. I've done a lot of thinking and reached the conclusion that I'm exhausted from the long journey out here and too tired to think right now about what I should do. Give me a few days."

Blake enthusiastically voiced his approval.
"A
wonderful idea. We can ride and walk on the beach. Maybe you'd like to spend a few days in the city—"

"Blake, be quiet," Stanton thundered, then reminded Jaime, "I said you could name your price. That shouldn't take a lot of thinking, for God's sake. Just tell me what you want. Turn the map over to me, and then you can rest all you want to." He wasn't worried about raising the money, figuring he could arrange a short-term loan for any amount. She wouldn't have it for long, anyway. He'd make sure of that.