My Darling Melissa (43 page)

Melissa ran, laughing, to greet her sisters-in-law. “Why did you change places like that?” she wanted to know as Quinn cautiously approached.

Banner smiled broadly, her face coated with the dust of the open road. “I drive when we’re going forward, and Fancy takes the wheel when we reverse our direction.”

Quinn looked baffled. He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again.

“Jeff and Adam are coming to the picnic, too,” Fancy said brightly, “but they were afraid to ride in the motorcar, the cowards.”

Melissa thought of Keith and his ultimatum and wondered if he’d told the family about her pregnancy and sham marriage. She glanced warily at Quinn. He must have been thinking along the same lines, for he looked arrogantly pleased. “How about Keith and Tess? Will they be here?” she asked.

Banner shook her head. “Tess’s mother and father are visiting from back East, so they couldn’t get away. She
paused and frowned. “Keith did ask me to tell you that he’ll see you on Wednesday as planned.”

Melissa swallowed and glanced at Quinn, who looked downright smug. Deciding to ignore him, she put an arm around each of her sisters-in-law and led them toward the hotel, where they could wash and have cold lemonade.

When the morning train was due Quinn went to meet it with a wagon. He returned twenty minutes later with a sheepish Adam and Jeff.

The moment Melissa saw her brothers she knew they hadn’t come because of her situation; they were there to find out if she’d forgiven them for keeping the secret concerning their father.

Looking at them, Melissa found she couldn’t be angry. Jeff was still a little pale from his recent sickness, and a streak of silver had appeared at Adam’s right temple, a sharp contrast to his ebony hair. Reminded that life was fragile and family was precious, Melissa hurried down the front walk to greet her brothers with exuberant hugs and kisses on the cheek.

Jeff’s eyes were suspiciously bright as he grinned down at her. “It’s good to see you, brat,” he said gently.

Adam glanced over at the motorcar, parked within a hair’s breadth of the brass hitching post, and shook his head. “You should get one of those for Melissa,” he said to Quinn.

Quinn rolled his eyes at that, and Melissa’s brothers laughed in sympathy.

“Where are those two thrill seekers of ours, anyway?” Jeff wanted to know.

At that moment Fancy answered his question by bursting out of the hotel and running across the lawn, beaming. Melissa’s heart swelled and grew warm within her, because the look that passed between her brother and his wife was proof that everything was all right with them again.

Twenty-five

Eustice Rafferty sat in a shadowy corner of the Blue Pig Saloon, his hands cupped around a whiskey glass, his gaze fixed on the wiry, grudge-filled little man in the chair across from his. It had been a mistake, he reflected, to try to kill both Quinn and that fancy woman of his. If that whore’s son had died in the railroad car, the agony would have lasted only minutes. Eustice wanted him to live another fifty years, suffering every moment of that time, but convincing Sever to let Quinn live was going to take some doing.

Jake shifted in his seat. He could never sit still for long, because some injustice, big or small, was always chewing at his middle. His eyes glowed as if he had a fever, and even his voice was quick and whispery. “All of ’em gathered out there for a party,” he muttered, reflecting. “We ain’t gonna get a better chance than that, Rafferty.”

Eustice settled back in his chair. He was no more patient than Sever, if the truth be known, but he liked the illusion of being superior in some way. “Just the woman,” he said.

Sever wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. His wife,
Becky, had left him recently to work in Quinn’s house, and Jake believed he’d been cuckolded. “No,” he said. “It’s your boy I want—I ain’t got no quarrel with the girl.”

It occurred to Eustice that what folks said about Sever was true; his hot temper had burned up his mind a long time ago. He just wasn’t right in the head, and there would be no reasoning with him.

Eustice nodded and smiled. “Whatever you say, Jake,” he said. “We’ll do whatever you say.”

The two men spent another hour laying plans and then left the saloon by the back way. This was Eustice’s suggestion. He told Sever that there was something he wanted him to see.

The afternoon sunshine glinted on the blade of Eustice’s hunting knife. With a smile on his face he plunged it into Sever’s middle, pushing until he felt the hilt lodge against the man’s ribcage.

Sever made a bloody, gurgling sound and toppled to the ground, a look of surprise etched into his features for all time.

Eustice pulled his knife out of his friend’s belly. There was a rain barrel beside the back door of the saloon, so he went over and washed the blade clean, drying it carefully on his shirt before sheathing it again. By the time he reached the street he’d convinced himself that he’d done the poor bastard a favor by putting him out of his misery.

Gillian swung her violet gaze from Mitch and Melissa, who were participating in the croquet tournament, to Quinn, who was standing with his back to a cedar tree, scowling at the couple. His tie was loose, the top three buttons of his shirt were unfastened, and his hair was rumpled from repeated combing with his fingers.

She went to the man who had loved her so long and so well and stepped between him and the woman he had been watching all day. “There’s still time for a—private farewell,” she said, gripping one end of his string tie in each hand.

His brazen brown eyes flashed with such reproach that she let her hands drop to her sides. “We said good-bye years ago, Gillian,” he told her.

She had to lower her gaze to protect herself from the searing contempt in his. “Years?” She choked out the word. “We were engaged until a few weeks back, Quinn, when you met Melissa. You loved me, you wanted to marry me.”

“No,” he answered. “I was only playing out a part—and so were you. If we’d really wanted to be married, we wouldn’t have found so many excuses to put off the ceremony.”

Gillian swallowed. She couldn’t deny what Quinn was saying because she knew it was true. She had delighted in his companionship and his lovemaking, but she’d never wanted to be his wife, because that would have made her a Rafferty, and the name was a taint to her. Quinn’s father was a dreadful man, and his mother had been a timid, snuffling little creature who took in other people’s wash.

She looked up at Quinn and saw that he was smiling. “You’ll be happy in England,” he said. “You were born to be the mistress of some manor.”

Gillian felt a little better. While her affection for Quinn was not and had never been strong enough to sustain a lifelong partnership, it was a very real emotion, and she could not bear his fury. “What about her?” she asked, turning slightly and gesturing toward Melissa. “What was she born to be?”

Quinn laughed. “The bane of my existence. The walking, breathing punishment for every sin I’ve ever committed or even considered committing. And I’ve got no idea how I ever lived without her.”

Rising to her tiptoes, Gillian gave Quinn a light kiss, then turned and walked away. She was looking ahead now, to meeting Ajax in New York and sailing on to a new life. She had a lot of packing to do.

Jeff cornered Melissa in the relatively barren area that would soon be a lush garden. “All right,” he demanded, “I want to know what’s going on here.”

Melissa pretended puzzlement even though she knew Jeff was wondering why she was spending the day with Mitch Williams instead of the man he believed to be her husband. While she was trying to think of a reply that would satisfy her brother two strong arms closed around her from behind.

She jumped, startled, and turned her head to look up at Quinn. He gave her a very forward kiss, and she was blushing when he finally released her, but when she glanced at Jeff she saw that her problem had been solved. At least temporarily.

“I was beginning to think the two of you were here with other people,” Jeff boomed, pleased, as he rarely was, to find himself in the wrong.

Quinn was still standing behind Melissa and still holding her close. He gave her a husbandly swat on the bottom. “I like to give the little woman space to breathe,” he said, smiling magnanimously.

Melissa wanted to kick him. He was deliberately baiting her, knowing that she didn’t dare tell Jeff the truth about their situation, and there was nothing she could do. She blushed, frightfully embarrassed, and averted her eyes.

That made Jeff laugh. He walked away to find Fancy, probably thinking that he’d done Melissa a favor by leaving her alone with her “husband.” She whirled, meaning to slap Quinn soundly in payment for that smack on the backside, and found herself swept up into a kiss that threatened to consume her.

Lively fiddle music was struck up inside the ballroom, and Quinn and Melissa were forced to draw apart. Couples were starting to wander in from the lawn, hand in hand, to dance.

In the distance lightning severed the sky and dark clouds were gathering. Melissa gave a little shiver that had nothing to do with rain coming to spoil a picnic and allowed Quinn to lead her inside for a dance.

One dance followed another until Melissa was breathless. Such close contact with Quinn made her want him, and she was embarrassed at having such feelings with so many people around.

When she could, she made an excuse and disappeared,
thinking that a walk in the cool and windy outdoors would restore her sense of balance.

The hot springs exerted a mysterious pull. She got the key from a hook just inside the kitchen door and made her way to the gazebolike building that housed the natural pool. She unlocked the enclosure and went inside, dropping the keys on one of the benches that faced the water and kicking off her slippers.

The water looked so inviting. Melissa slipped out of her Spanish off-the-shoulder blouse and brightly colored skirt, laying them carefully on a bench along with her petticoat, drawers, and stockings.

She was in the pool, swimming in slow circles and delighting in the release of tension the steamy water brought her, when she heard the door open and close. She smiled, expecting Quinn, but it was Eustice Rafferty who stood on the pond’s edge watching her.

Melissa opened her mouth to scream and knew in the same instant that it would be useless to cry out. Everyone was dancing in the ballroom, and they would hear nothing but the laughter and the music.

“You’re intruding,” she said, trying to hide her nakedness by hunkering down in the churning water and keeping her arms crossed over her breasts. “Please go away immediately.”

The old man laughed at that and stood his ground. “He’ll grieve for you,” he mused. “Yes, indeed, he will.”

A shiver passed over Melissa despite the warm water, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She watched in round-eyed horror as he took a knife from his battered leather scabbard.

Melissa began easing backward toward the opposite side of the pool, but Eustice only rounded the edge, smiling at her with gruesome relish. “Step out of there,” he said after a few moments, “and let me get a look at you.”

Melissa shook her head. She wanted to scream now, but she couldn’t. Her throat was closed so tightly that it would have been impossible to make any sound. Papa, she thought wildly, help me. You owe me that.

The hulking man made a grumbling sound and lunged
into the water feet first, making a horrendous splash that freed Melissa’s vocal cords. A scream tore itself from her throat, so primal and powerful that it left rawness in its wake, and she scrambled frantically to escape.

Eustice caught her before she reached the other side of the pool and pressed the blade of his knife to her throat. Standing behind her, he grasped her waist and dragged her back against him. Melissa was afraid to struggle or scream with the blade at her jugular, and her mind was running wildly through a very limited list of possibilities.

When she felt one of his great, groping hands close over her breast she was so repulsed that she turned her head slightly and sank her teeth into his wrist.

Eustice bellowed in rage and pain, and the knife toppled from his hand into the water. Melissa lunged for it, found the weapon, and grasped it in both hands.

“Don’t touch me,” she warned as Eustice approached, his grizzled hair and beard streaming, his clothes sodden. His movements were slow and laborious in the water, but he was coming closer and closer, and he didn’t look afraid.

He kept coming, and he reached out for her, and Melissa shrieked in mingled fear and horror as she raised the knife and plunged it into his chest. Eustice fell forward, blood staining the water that bubbled and gurgled around him, and Melissa was still screaming when Quinn came and gathered her into his arms.

The next few hours passed in a haze for Melissa. She was wrapped in a blanket and taken to her room in the hotel, and Banner gave her a bath and a shot that made her sleep. When she awakened night had fallen, and she was not alone on her narrow bed.

The terror returned, and she stiffened violently, a scream rising in her throat. But the scent and substance of the man holding her were Quinn’s, and she settled against him and wept with relief.