Bound For Eden (27 page)

Luke's hands tightened now around Alex's neck. Her long, slender neck, without the slightest hint of an Adam's apple. Luke shook his head. How had she ever managed to fool him?

The kid was rigid with horror. She struggled out of his grasp and crouched before him like some kind of wounded animal. Her eyes were huge, gleaming with reflections from the fire.

‘The infamous lost sister, I presume?' he drawled. She looked like he'd just kicked her. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd given a whimper. ‘Hey, runt,' he said gently, ‘we're friends, remember? Your secret is safe with me.' He reached for her and frowned when she flinched. ‘Wait here,' he said soothingly, heading for his saddlebags. When he returned he offered her a flask. ‘Come on, sweetheart, take a sip. It'll help calm you down.'

Alexandra's head was spinning. He knew? She didn't understand. How could he know who she was? And why wasn't he mad that she'd deceived him? She accepted the flask and took a long swallow. The whiskey burned her throat on the way down and she choked.

‘Ah, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have sprung it on you like that. I keep forgetting how young you are.'

Alex coughed. ‘How young?' She didn't think almost twenty was that young.

‘I know you say you're sixteen but, let's be honest, you can't be more than thirteen at the most. You're a beanpole.'

Alex gasped and looked down at Adam's baggy old clothes. A beanpole? Thirteen at the most? Tears sprung to Alex's eyes. He still didn't recognise her. Even knowing that she was a female, he couldn't see who she really was. Had she meant so little to him?

Luke was flabbergasted when she gave a low sob and fled to the wagon. He hadn't handled that too well. He put it down to the fact that he didn't have much experience with young girls. Women, now, women he knew. He sighed. Shame she wasn't a good few years older. He wouldn't be having these troubles if she were.

He'd just have to apologise to her in the morning.

Even though she tried to bury her tears in the flour sack, Alex's sobs were loud enough to wake Victoria. ‘Alex?' she whispered, confused. ‘What's wrong? What's happened? Is it Adam? Oh God, what's happened to Adam?'

‘Nothing,' Alex wailed, crying harder.

Victoria leaned over her sister and rested a hand on her shuddering back. She frowned. It wasn't like Alex to cry. ‘Please, Alex,' she begged, feeling a band of fear close around her, ‘tell me.'

‘He knows.'

‘What? Who? Who knows what?'

‘Luke,' Alex sniffled, pushing herself up from the flour sack and regarding Victoria with puffy eyes, ‘Luke knows.'

‘Knows what?' Victoria asked, completely exasperated.

‘He knows I'm a girl.'

Victoria jerked back, snatching her hand away. ‘He knows?' Her heart sank. That was it, then. All her hopes dashed. Once he saw Alex in her dove-gray dress, with her beautiful face free of all that muck, she would have no chance with him. Although . . . he loved
her
, Victoria, didn't he? She'd practically heard him say so, right here in this wagon.

‘And he thinks I'm a
child
,' Alex cried, dissolving into further tears.

‘He . . .?'

‘He thinks I'm a child. Twelve or thirteen. And you thought I couldn't make myself flat-chested enough,' she sniffed.

Victoria's eyes narrowed as she regarded her weeping sister. ‘And why,' she asked slowly, ‘does it matter if he thinks you're a child?'

Alex's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

‘You didn't mind him thinking you were a boy,' Victoria reminded her.

‘That's different.'

‘How?'

Alex had no answer for her. She collapsed miserably face first into her flour sack. Things just kept going from bad to worse. She didn't want Victoria to suspect that there was anything between her and Luke. There
wasn't
anything between her and Luke, she wailed silently. He thought she was a child!

Victoria crept back to her side of the wagon, feeling sick to her stomach. So, Alex had feelings for Luke, did she? Victoria didn't blame her. But Luke was
hers.
For once in her life she was the pretty sister, the one that men went out of their way to talk to. Victoria reached in the darkness for the pale pink rose, which she lay on top of her Bible. It was only just beginning to wilt, and was still fragrant. He loved her, she knew he did, and she wasn't prepared to surrender him without a fight. First thing in the morning she would talk to him.

‘Alex,' Victoria said softly, hoping she was still awake. A sniffle was her only reply. ‘I think it would be best if you
do
let him think you're a child, at least until we reach Oregon. We need to keep your disguise for as long as possible, until the Gradys are caught. You know how men get around you,' Victoria couldn't keep the bitter edge from her voice, ‘and we need Luke clear-headed until those wretched men are locked up.' And hopefully, Victoria thought, by the time they got to Oregon she would be Mrs Luke Slater, and it wouldn't matter in the slightest how old he thought Alex was.

Alex didn't need to read Victoria's mind to know what she was thinking. Oh, how could she have gone to that dance? She'd known how Victoria felt about Luke. Why couldn't she have let Victoria have her one night of glory? But no, she had to go and get all hot and bothered over that horrid Slater man, and now look at the mess they were in. She could tell by Vicky's voice that her sister was angry. Imagine if she ever found out what had actually happened in Independence!

She mustn't find out. Ever. Luke Slater could never know that Beatrice and Alexandra were one and the same. If he did, she'd lose Victoria forever.

Victoria lay wakeful most of the night, and was up and dressed the moment she heard the birds stirring in the cottonwoods. She dressed carefully in her new yellow calico, and she brushed her hair two dozen strokes, until it shone. Then she left the wagon, expecting to be able to snatch a moment alone with Luke.

No such luck. There were already quite a few people up, sipping freshly brewed coffee. Luke wasn't among them, and he wasn't asleep in his bedroll.

Victoria ran a nervous hand through her hair.

‘Good morning, Miss Alexander,' Ned O'Brien greeted her eagerly. She gave him an absent nod, but he wasn't put off. He never was, she thought with a sigh. The man sought her out every chance he got. And he was always quoting poetry at her. It was quite off-putting.

‘You look beautiful this morning,' he told her. ‘A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.'

‘Milton again?' Victoria asked dryly.

‘No,' he stammered, ‘that was Byron.' Ned flushed. He couldn't quite bring himself to tell her that only Byron could capture the wild surging of his blood when he beheld her. It was difficult enough to quote other people's words at her – words of the greatest poets, no less – but he didn't think he would ever have the courage to tell her how he felt in his own words.

Ned had never expected to feel this way again. He had believed his heart buried with his wife. The first time he'd met Miss Alexander he'd thought her merely pretty, but the second time, that night at the dance when she'd glowed like a second sun, he'd barely been able to breathe. And when she'd let him dance with her . . . there were no words to describe the sensations. Oh, Ned was no fool, he knew how she felt about Luke. But all women lost their heads around Luke and, as far as he could tell, her feelings weren't reciprocated. Luke certainly didn't look at Victoria the way he'd looked at the woman in green that night at the dance.

Ned could wait. When she got her heart broken by Luke, he would be there to help her pick up the pieces.

‘I was looking for Mr Slater?' Victoria said now, having little to no interest in Lord Byron.

‘I believe he's tending to his horse. You've heard we'll be starting out late today? Luke said mid-afternoon should be early enough. We'll put in a few miles before we camp again . . .' Ned trailed off. Victoria had left him the minute he'd told her where Luke was. Ned watched the sunny yellow sway of her skirts. She certainly was lovely.

Victoria hastily neatened the folds of her dress as she approached Luke and Adam. Luke was showing her brother how to clean the dirt out from the horse's hooves. Victoria cleared her throat delicately, to get their attention.

‘I've already eaten breakfast,' Adam said defensively.

‘I was wondering if I could have a private word with you, Mr Slater?'

Luke looked up, startled. ‘Go ahead.'

‘Privately,' Victoria repeated, with a significant glance at Adam. ‘I thought perhaps we could take a walk?'

Luke straightened reluctantly. ‘I was hoping to speak to Alex. I'd hate to miss . . . him.' There he went too: almost referring to the runt as ‘she'.

‘It's Alex I want to speak to you about. I promised him I'd talk to you this morning.'

‘Oh.' Luke paused. ‘Have you got the hang of this, Adam? Can I trust you with it?'

‘Oh yes!' Adam exclaimed, wriggling with pride that Luke would trust him to clean Delilah's shoes.

Luke didn't offer Victoria his arm. She tried not to be disappointed, telling herself that he simply didn't want to get her pretty dress dirty. After all, he'd been working with the horse. They wandered in silence through the lush grove, finally pausing by one of the springs.

‘So, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?'

Victoria plucked a cluster of jasmine that was bobbing in the breeze and ran her finger over the pink undersides of the blooms. ‘Alex says that you know.'

Luke didn't ask for clarification, he simply nodded. ‘Yes, I know.'

‘For how long?'

‘Does it matter?'

Victoria frowned. This wasn't going the way she'd pictured it. He was supposed to be glad for the opportunity to have her on her own. Was he mad at her? Because they'd all deceived him about Alex? That must be it. ‘I'm sorry,' she apologised, laying a hand on his arm, ‘we didn't mean to lie to you.'

‘I can see why you did,' he remarked, ‘the way those Gradys were sniffing around for her.' He took her hand from his arm, gave it a quick squeeze, and then pulled away to kneel at the spring.

Victoria watched, frustrated, as he took a drink.

‘Why do they want her anyway?' He'd heard the answer from Alex, but he was curious to see if Victoria would sing the same song.

Victoria bit her lip. She could hardly tell him that Silas had lusted after her sister since the moment he'd laid eyes on her, not if she wanted Luke to believe that Alex was just a child.

‘It's got something to do with all of that gold you were carrying around, doesn't it?' Luke prodded.

Victoria paled. ‘Alex said they owed us,' she stammered.

‘It's alright,' Luke reassured her, ‘I won't be turning you in to the law.'

‘You don't understand,' she pleaded, ‘they did the most awful things to us after Ma and Pa died. Silas was always coming around, and they took our food and left us starving because he wanted . . . Silas wanted . . .' Victoria threw up her hands, at a loss to explain.

‘You don't need to say it aloud,' Luke said, rising. He knew he'd promised the kid he wouldn't lead Victoria on, but he couldn't bear to see a woman in distress. He took her hands, which were trembling. ‘I can well imagine what he was after. A lovely young lady like yourself, all alone in the world, with a kid brother and sister to support. I'm sure he thought you were easy pickings. He didn't lay a hand on you, did he?'

Victoria thought back to that horrible day, when Silas had closed in on Alex on the porch, crushing her against him. ‘Just a kiss,' she said brokenly. She knew it was a sin to lie, but Luke was looking at her with such tenderness, and his hands were so big and strong around hers. Surely God would understand one little lie?

Luke's expression turned black. They were vile, those Gradys. Hunting that poor kid down like she was an animal, abusing Adam, and trying to take advantage of an innocent like Victoria. ‘I'll get them,' he promised her, ‘they won't bother you that way ever again.'

A tear rolled down Victoria's cheek and splattered on the sunny yellow of her calico. Luke did what came naturally, and pulled her close to comfort her.