Orchids in Moonlight (40 page)

Relieved she was safe, he told her he didn't care which room she took but repeated that she had given them quite a scare. "Enolita couldn't get you to come to the door, and when she found it unlocked, she went in and panicked to see you weren't there. We've been searching high and low. I thought you had run away."

"Nothing like that," Jaime denied tonelessly.

"Well, at least you've learned your way around and didn't wind up lost." He motioned to Enolita that she could leave. When they were alone, he shook his head in mock scolding. "Look at you. You didn't undress and you fell asleep here on the sofa. You can't be comfortable." His brows raised as he saw the orchids that had fallen to the floor. He picked them up. "Now where did these come from?"

Jaime managed to keep her voice steady. "I found some more when I was out walking."

He crushed them with an almost vengeance. "I'd like to know who broke in the greenhouse, damn them."

"If you don't mind," she said uncomfortably, "I'd like to go back to sleep. I have a headache."

"Are you sure you aren't just trying to avoid me?"

Telling herself it would soon be over, Jaime managed to deny pleasantly, "Of course not. I really and truly don't feel well."

He softened at once. "Forgive me. I'm just upset because, unless I can have time to convince you to change your mind, you're going to be leaving me."

And sooner than you think, she thought happily, gloriously.

* * *

The day passed with agonizing slowness. Jaime forced herself to join Blake for dinner, afraid, if she didn't, he would insist on having trays brought to his mother's room so they could dine there. She would have a time getting rid of him then. But she was too nervous to eat. Darkness had fallen. In a few hours it would be time to go, and she was on fire inside.

Blake watched her with concern and finally asked, "Are you all right? There's something wrong. I can tell."

"I still don't feel well, and I didn't want to come down here, but I knew you'd insist." She avoided eye contact.

He pushed his own plate away. "It's me. I know it's me. You can't stand the sight of me, because you blame me for your lover's death. Oh, Jaime, Jaime." He reached out to her to plead, "Tell me what I have to do to make you see how much I love you. I'll do anything. Just don't leave me. Give me a chance to show you how happy I can make you."

Suddenly, Jaime lost all patience and told him with an exasperated sigh, "You don't love me. You only think you do. I remind you of your mother, and you adored her, and you miss her, but that's all it is. You don't build a future with someone based on that kind of love, Blake. It would never work.

"Now you're going to have to excuse me." She stood. "Nothing I say makes any difference to you anyway. I'm going to bed now." She hurried out before he could protest.

Blake stared after her with longing. She was wrong. He did love her. And he always would.

He got up and went to his father's study and headed straight to the whiskey decanter on the table behind the desk. He had never been much of a drinker, but after the nightmare of the past few days, bourbon had become a good friend.

He was on his second glass when there was a frenzied knock on the door. "Who is it?" he yelled irritably, then froze to hear the report.

"That woman. Morena. We have her."

Blake raced to fling the door open and found himself staring down at Morena's glittering black eyes. A guard stood on either side of her, gripping her arms.

One of the men explained how she had boldly come to the front of the house, demanding to see Blake. They did not turn her away, he said, because Blake had issued orders he was to be told if she appeared.

Grabbing her and slinging her into the room, Blake slammed the door in the guards' faces after telling them to get back to their posts.

"I was going to pay you a surprise visit, but your guards had all the entrances blocked," Morena informed him mockingly.

"Maybe that's because I've been expecting you. Now tell me what you want." He sat down behind the desk again.

She laughed, a gloating sound that grated. "If you were expecting me, then you should know."

"I want to see if you've got nerve enough to ask."

"For money?" She began to walk aimlessly about the room, glancing at Stanton's things as though she had never seen them before. "That takes no nerve. I'm entitled to a share of your father's estate. He took care of me when he was alive. He would want me cared for after his death. Give me what is rightfully mine, and you will never see me again."

"I'm never going to see you again anyway. I only told the guards to bring you to me if you showed up so I could tell you to your face I'll have you shot if you ever come around here again. You didn't mean a damn thing to my father. You were just a whore. Obviously a very good whore, because he kept you around longer than the others he had through the years. If he had wanted you to have anything, he'd have left it to you in his will. I've read it. Your name wasn't mentioned. Only mine. Pointe Grande belongs to me now, and you've got five minutes to get off of it."

She wandered lazily to stand near him. "Maybe I have no legal claim, but you owe me something anyway."

He turned his back on her in a gesture of scornful dismissal. "You're crazy. And you seem to forget I hate you for driving my mother to her death."

Morena took a step closer to the whiskey decanter, which he could not see. "I've always regretted your blaming me for that," she lied, proud of how she was able to make her voice so simpering. "I only wanted her to leave him. I never thought she would do something so desperate."

"My mother was unhappy," he said, more to himself than to her as he templed his fingers and leaned back in the chair to gaze through them thoughtfully. "But I don't want to discuss her with you."

She moved quickly, slipping a tiny vial from the bodice of her dress and emptying the contents into the nearly empty bottle. The juice of the Mexican poppy would quickly put him to sleep. When he awoke later, she would be gone and so would Jaime, and no one would ever know how she had managed to spirit her away right under the guards' noses.

She moved back quickly as he whirled around. "Remember, if it wasn't for me, you'd never have found out the truth about Austin," she said.

Blake poured himself another drink. "You should be grateful I gave you a chance to prove it. Otherwise, you'd have been hanged that night, and you know it."

"And that would have made you a murderer." She stepped away from the desk and sat down on the sofa. "Where is your lady love, by the way? Still grieving for her lover?" Morena still felt a sad little jolt to think of Cord's having to die. She had enjoyed him immensely and doubted she would ever be able to find anyone else like him. But he had betrayed her and had to pay the price.

"It's none of your business, but she went to bed early. She's not feeling well." He watched her suspiciously as he gulped down the bourbon, then said, "I'm not going to give you anything, Morena, except a warning to get out of here."

She nodded, blinking her eyes as though trying to hold back tears. "I should have known you'd have no sympathy for me. I have nowhere to go. No money. Nothing. And now you tell me you will kill me if I dare come back to the only home I have ever known. I played here as a child. I know every inch of this mission." She rambled on, stalling for time, waiting for the narcotic to work.

It did not take long.

Soon, Blake's eyelids began to flutter, and his head started bobbing ever so slightly. He yawned, interrupted her to tell her to leave, he was tired of her whining, but it was an effort to raise his hand to point to the door. A great dark cloud was descending. He swallowed against it, tried to open his eyes wide to see past, but then the fog wrapped him in a paralyzing cocoon and he slumped in the chair, unconscious.

"Fool," she whispered with a small gurgle of delight. "Did you really think there was only one opening to the passage?"

She had tried the one in the cellar earlier in the evening and found it sealed. But she had anticipated that it would be and was ready with her other plan, which was to surrender at the front door, saying she could find no other way in, then pretend she had come to beg Blake for money. The only opening to the passage on this floor was in Stanton's study, and she had to find a way to get into it without arousing suspicion. Figuring that was where Blake would be, she had been ready with the poppy juice. If he hadn't been drinking and there was no way to drug him, she had been prepared to turn to drastic means as a last resort—like the knife strapped to her leg.

The secret opening in the study, like the one in the room where Jaime slept, was concealed behind a thick panel. No one would ever suspect it existed unless they knew the mission as she did. Touching the pressure point, it slid open easily. All she had to do then was make her way upstairs. If, for some reason, the panel in Jaime's room was blocked, she could enter through any room up there. Morena smiled to think how she had not given away all her secrets.

With a deep sense of relief, she stepped into the darkness. Soon she would have everything that was rightfully hers. Jaime would turn over the map, unable to bear the sight of her father's torture, and Morena would kill them both.

She had not waited two years for nothing, she thought, as she made her way silently. And if Stanton had not turned on her, if he had kept his word to marry her, he would be here to share the victory—instead of feeding the worms.

Finally, she reached Jaime's room. The panel opened effortlessly, but a quick glance about in the moonlight evoked a sharp curse as she saw it was empty.

She clenched her fists and frantically tried to think where Jaime might be. Blake would not sleep long. In a milder dose, the Yahis used the poppy juice to relieve toothaches, so it was not terribly potent. She had given Blake a strong dose, but only enough to keep him unconscious till she could disappear with Jaime. Of course, she could have poisoned him with something else but had wanted to avoid killing him if possible. After all, with untold riches waiting in the future, Morena was not about to be hanged for murder.

There were secret doors in many of the other rooms, but Morena doubted Jaime would be in any of them. Probably she had gone for a walk. There was nothing to do but wait and hope she returned soon.

* * *

Jaime also waited.

The room seemed almost hallowed, eerily aglow from the milky white light pouring through the windows. A little earlier, she had gone out in the hall to listen and make sure all was quiet. Her plan was to go down the back stairway and leave by the rear door toward the greenhouse. She was confident she would not encounter any guards there, because everyone avoided that area since the murder.

Finally, it was time.

Jaime grabbed her satchel, started for the door, and then, with a loud groan, slapped her forehead and uttered an oath. In her excitement, she had forgotten the map and the letters. They were still hidden inside the drape in the other room, but she knew she could not leave without them.

Opening the door slowly, quietly, she let herself out and proceeded to tiptoe down the hall. Reaching the room she had abandoned, she slipped inside without making a sound.

She was halfway across the floor, heading for the window, when the cold steel of the knife pressed against her throat.

She froze, paralyzed by terror as the familiar voice whispered against her ear. "Scream and you die."

The blade pricked her flesh, and she felt a stinging sensation.

"I want the map," Morena said harshly. "I know you have it."

Jaime was afraid to speak with the knife against her vocal cords but managed to choke out the lie. "I don't have it."

"I know you do, but there's no time to argue. You'll tell me where it is later. For now, if you want to live to see your father, you will do as I say and come with me quietly. Make one sound, and the knife will be fresh with your blood when it enters his heart."

Jaime was not about to protest. It was past time for her to leave. Soon Cord would be lighting the fire. As soon as he did, he would head for the cave. Probably, he would get there ahead of them and be waiting.

Everything was going to be all right, she told herself as Morena pushed her inside the secret passage. All she had to do was cooperate with Morena and not let on she was walking into a trap.

* * *

Blake lifted his head, which seemed to be weighted down with bricks. His eyes felt as though they were full of sand, and he strained to focus amid the dizziness engulfing. He had not had that much to drink, remembered only being on his third when everything went black, so what had happened?

Morena!

His feet hit the floor with a thud, rocking him with a wave of nausea. The bitch had drugged him.

He glanced about wildly. Where the hell was she and what was she up to? God, it was hard to think, because his brain felt caught in an ever-tightening vise.

Deciding she was probably stealing everything she could get her hands on, he started to reach for the cord to summon Enolita and the guards but then, with a start, noticed something strange about the wall beside him. It looked as though part of the wood had been pulled loose, but closer scrutiny revealed it was actually a sliding panel. "By damn," he breathed aloud, spellbound, "There are secret doors all over the place."