Night Winds (15 page)

The pounding at the front door grew louder, and Shae thought she heard shouting
. She couldn’t answer with a cry for help, couldn’t do anything but struggle to refill her empty lungs.

Ethan’s mouth assaulted hers; his fingers squeezed her breast in punishment, not passion
. Where he had intended to make love to her at one time, Shae knew that he now meant to take her by force. He meant to hurt her for thwarting his will. His hand grasped the loose cloth near her waist, then pulled as if he meant to tear the dress off.

The door exploded off its hinges just as her starved lungs at last drew breath
. Abruptly, Ethan’s bulk was lifted from her.

Looking up, she recognized Phillip Payton, his face so full of rage that he looked as if he meant to murder
. His fist struck Ethan on the jaw and felled him like a tree.

Ethan groaned and rubbed his mouth, smearing bright red blood across his chin
. “You son of a bitch! What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

Payton’s answer was to grab Lowell by the collar and haul him to his feet
. “I would think that’s obvious,” he said. “I’m thrashing you and taking her.”

Ethan blocked his next punch and stepped behind Shae, who was scrambling to her feet, her head reeling with a rush of terror
.

“Get the hell out of here
! I’ll ruin you for this! I’ll bring down Payton Enterprises even if it kills you!” Lowell swore. He grabbed Shae and swung her around in front of him to block Phillip’s attempt at a clear shot.

“I’m not about to leave her with a beast like you!” Phillip answered over Shae’s shriek of protest.

Though Ethan had his arm crooked around her neck, Shae managed to stamp the arch of his foot with her bare heel. With a shout of surprise, he let go of her, and she darted toward the bedroom.

Phillip leapt at Ethan, and she heard heavy grunts as she retrieved her missing shoes
. She needed them to run as far and fast as possible. Without pausing to put the shoes on, she scooped up Jasper in her arms.

Coming out of the bedroom, she saw Ethan and Phillip slowly circling the sofa, Phillip still obviously intent on beating his old friend
. She profoundly hoped that he succeeded.

Terrified that Ethan might yet win the upper hand, Shae rushed toward the door
. She hesitated, remembering the carpetbag she had left on the cushion.

“You came to
me
, Shae!” Ethan lunged toward her. “You’re mine now!”

She swallowed past what felt like a peach pit in her throat, then avoided him and grabbed the carpetbag off of the sofa.

“I’ll find you!” Ethan swung at her head, but Phillip shoved him off-balance, and the blow fell short.

In her panic, Shae bolted through the door
. The last thing she heard from inside was Ethan. “I hope she’s worth it, Phillip! Because you already know what this will cos
t
”

The two men’s grunts and curses continued as she hobbled quickly toward the steps
. Sick with fear, Shae tried to hurry, but her painful bare foot slowed her. She heard footsteps gaining on her and screamed when a man’s arms swept her off her feet. Still in her embrace, Jasper yipped, alarmed by the sudden shift in his position.

“Put me down!” Struggling desperately, Shae finally noticed it was Phillip she was fighting
. She froze, unsure of what to do.

Ignoring her demand, he carried her downstairs.

“Pleas
e
I’m all right now,” she told him, though her voice still shook with emotion. “You can put me down.”

Instead of listening, he strode toward where Cure stood tied
. “We’re leaving here, before he decides that two punches aren’t enough to stop him.”

Her brain spun with raw terror
. In that dizzying rush, she thought of King, of Ethan, always trying to make all her decisions, always trying to rule her. She couldn’t let another man, not even Phillip, claim that role.

“No!” she said
. “I won’t let you think for me. I don’t belong to you.”

He dropped his arm and set her feet to hard-packed sand
. “Fine. You’re down. But you’re not going back to him. Not until you know the truth.”

“If you think I’d go back to Ethan Lowell after what he trie
d
”

“

If you thought you had some choice, you wouldn’t have been there in the first place. He’s stolen Rachel, my fiancée; he means to marry her.”

She stared
. “And that was why you came after him?”

A strong breeze ruffled his jet hair
. As he shook his head, his dark eyes burned with resentment. “No. No, he was right. I wasn’t sure myself at first, but I did come for you.”

She stared at him, her annoyance nearly overwhelmed by

. . . something. Was it hop
e
or disbelief? His gaze was too intense, and she had to turn hers to the surf.

“That’s ridiculous,” she muttered. Jasper wriggled impatiently, but she held him tightly
. “We don’t even know each other. Yo
u
you’re just upset about your fiancée.”

Phillip touched her gently on the cheek.

“Let me help you, Shae.” His voice was barely audible over crashing rollers. “I think we need each other.”

She glanced back at him, and found his face blurred by the tears filling her eyes
. “How can I be certain I can trust you?”

Angrily, he untied his horse and climbed into the saddle
. “If you can’t tell by now, then go back upstairs. Ethan is expecting you. After he’s done licking his wounds, he’ll be more than happy to finish what he started. Do you think I didn’t see you trying to get out that window? Do you think I couldn’t hear you crying out for help? Help has come, Shae, if you’re bold enough to take it.”

When she didn’t answer, he continued
. “If last night’s kiss meant nothing, if you didn’t
feel
when I touched you, stay here.”

She stared up at him, then reached for his hand
. After putting a foot in the left stirrup, she let him pull her up behind him on his horse.

As he nudged the animal into an easy lope, she held tightly, to Jasper and to him
. And she prayed with all her heart that she was doing the right thing.

Phillip wondered if he had lost his mind. Or did choosing to steal away Shae Rowan, choosing the rashest path of his entire life, signify only a momentary lapse in judgment rather than insanity?

Conscious as he was of her body pressed so close behind him, he almost hoped that it was madness
. For he didn’t want to end this unexpected ride. Instead of regretting his impulsive action, he wondered at the thrill of it, the ridiculous surge of strength and joy.

Sha
e
and realit
y
spoiled his elation.

“Please slow down
! I’ll fall.” Her voice sounded more unsure than truly fearful.

He checked Cure’s gait to a walk and listened to the neat hooves crush white shell beneath them
. As they rode past houses raised on stilts against the threat of flooding, he noticed white curtains stir as women inside watched. He glimpsed a furtive smile. Children interrupted a game of stickball on the street to let them pass and stared in honest curiosity. Although no respectable couple would ride together in such a fashion, Phillip suspected they would be granted a leeway Port Providence reserved for young lovers near the beach. For now, at any rate.

“I’m taking you to my home.” Phillip decided as he spoke
. “Then we can sort out this mess.”

“You woul
d
you would take me there? What of your family? What will they think of me?”

“More than if they learned we were slinking about clandestinely
. At the moment, you’re simply the daughter of an unreasonable man. If you behave in a decent manner, they’ll have no cause to suspect yo
u
”

“

Since when has anyone required cause? But never mind. I don’t care about that now. Not if we can talk in private. I went to Ethan to ask for help he would never give. I still need it, desperately. I need your word you’ll listen.”

“What else would I do
? Attack you in my house, with both my sisters’ ears pressed to the door? I tell you, I’m not Ethan.”

She leaned even closer to him, with a sigh much older than her years
. “I believe you. I need to. But it’s not easy. I’ve been so wrong before.”

Phillip wanted to reassure her once again, but he sensed she didn’t need words now
. Only the promise of security represented by their progress toward his home.

Thank God, at least, his mother wasn’t there
. As it was, she’d likely beat the train back to Port Providence if Lydia related details. He was planning how to keep his meddlesome sister from her stationery when a flash of sunlight off metal caught his eye, from just behind a hedge of oleanders near a raised, gray house.

He felt Cure’s lurch almost before suspicion formed, almost before the sound of gunfire reached his ear
. The black gelding stumbled, then went down, pitching Phillip, Shae, and the little dog she held into the shell-covered street.

The horse’s ear-splitting scream overrode Shae and Phillip’s cries of surprise, even the dog’s yelp
.

In the wake of that cacophony, a man’s curse caught Phillip’s ear. “Damned nigger-lover, maybe this’ll change yer stubborn mind.”

Phillip scrambled to his feet and stooped to help Shae. She grabbed her moth-eaten carpetbag as he pulled her by the arm. Turning to run with her, he felt sick to see what looked like buckets of bright blood pooling near Cure’s neck. The animal’s legs flailed dangerously as it struggled fruitlessly to rise.

Children’s screams, thin and high-pitched, rent the air
. Abandoning bats and balls, they scattered like a handful of dropped marbles. More gunshots followed, and Phillip felt pain tear a path across the top of his left shoulder.

He grabbed Shae’s hand and half-dragged, half-led her behind the corner of the nearest house
. The white dog crawled beneath some bushes and whined loudly.

“He’s heading that way
! Get him!” A different man’s voice. A different angle.

Phillip realized at least two men were hunting him
. His pulse pounded in his ears like the booming of great waves, though his mouth was desert dry.

Women boiled out of doorways, screaming children’s names. In the street, the wounded horse flopped spasmodically, then released a last loud, rattling breath
. Despite his own injury, Phillip felt sick at his gelding’s death. Poor Cur
e
the steadfast beast had never done less than his best to please.

“You can’t do this, Father . . .” Her arm pressed against him tightly, Shae moaned and shook her head in disbelief
. “No, Father!”

Phillip clapped a hand over her mouth
. “Be quiet,” he demanded. “They’ll hear and shoot us. This has nothing to do with your father.”

Shae’s eyes rolled toward him, and she nodded until he removed his hand.

“You’re bleeding,” she said, gesturing toward his shoulder.

“Damn it
. And our route home’s cut off.”

Shae glanced over her shoulder, between houses
. “Come this way. If you can still run, I know a place where we can hide.”

*

The rude curse at last registered in Shae’s mind. Phillip was righ
t
it had not been Father’s voice, thank God. Some other man had called out, “Nigger-lover.”

She recalled overhearing King’s discussion with one of his more loathsome customers
. Though she hadn’t recognized the name earlier, she now realized that Phillip Payto
n
Dr.
Phillip Payto
n
was the man who had set the dock workers and Port Providence’s men of business on their ears. Despite the public outcry, no amount of pressure had been sufficient to make the young upstart recant.

Normally, she would have paid the gossip little heed
. Unrest among the laborers and the politics of the Port Providence Wharf Company bored her. But the pompous customer, a Mr. Ruffin, with his bushy sidewhiskers and his ready leer, sounded so annoyed at this “social reformer masquerading as a businessman” that Shae found herself cheering for whoever had caused the man such trouble.

So Phillip was the one who had stirred up all that commotion
. Out of some perversity, she felt gratitude. Gratitude that she was not the only person in this city whose behavior incited turmoil.

Apparently, Phillip’s actions had enraged some mad fool with a gun
. Phillip had been hurt already, and there was no reason to believe his attacker wouldn’t shoot again. As long as she remained by his side, she too was in danger. The thought chilled her, but she forced it aside. Phillip hadn’t left her with Ethan; she refused to simply leave him to his fate.

All the while she led him through back alleys between houses, terror nipped at her heels
. The thought of someone shooting at their exposed backs made a scream catch in her throat.

Though she tried not to turn her head, she finally peered over her shoulder when Phillip stumbled
. Blood soaked the torn edges of fabric at his shoulder. She paused to gently touch the wound.

“It’s all right,” he told her, though he winced at the light pressure.

She could see that he was lying anyway. His pale face contrasted starkly with his dark hair and brows. His hazel eyes looked unfocused.

With shaking hands, she took his handkerchief from his breast pocket and then tucked it into his torn shirt, where he was bleeding
. “Here. Hold this with your other hand. To slow the blood. Not too much further.”

He nodded with apparent comprehension and managed one more word
. “Where?”

“A friend’s house
. Please, you have to move. We can’t stay here.”

Still panting, he nodded and followed her as she ran through another alley that would lead them to the house where Lucius had lived
. A large dog barreled toward them, snarling and snapping, until a rope about its neck pulled taut. Its black jaws snapped at empty air.

Shae lurched away from the huge animal, then remembered Jasper
. She glanced over her shoulder. The terrier was nowhere in sight. But she could not turn back for him. Not with Phillip bleeding with each step, nor with an armed lunatic somewhere behind them, on the loose.

Shae and Phillip nearly careened into a broad-shouldered youth, who was delivering a block of ice to a scrawny housewife
. At their appearance from around a corner, his muscular arms jerked. He lost his grip on the ice tongs, and the block dropped onto his foot.

In their wake, Shae heard him howl with pain and cringed in sympath
y
and fear. If the gunman followed, the noise would surely draw him.

Another block, and Shae’s cut foot throbbed with every step
. Her lungs felt shredded with exertion, and she had never known such exhaustion in her life. Even her arm ached with the effort of dragging Phillip along. At his increased resistance, she slowed to lean against a wooden fence to give them both a chance to catch their breath. Mentally, she counted streets. Which way must she turn?

Phillip panted beside her, gaping like a fresh-caught speckled trout
. He looked pale, but the handkerchief beneath his palm seemed to have slowed his blood loss. Too impatient to wait longer, Shae urged him on again.

Luckily, her guess about the street was right
. Ahead of them lay the safety of Lucius’s house. Even empty, she still thought of it as shelter.

A few steps from the gate, she froze and looked about
. She knew that hours must have passed, but a memory of her father’s violent behavior lingered like a nightmare. Could King be lurking inside, waiting to see if she’d return? Dear God, what a disaster that would be!

But no matter how her father worried her, right now she feared the gunman more
. Making her decision, Shae lifted the gate’s latch and led Phillip through the weedy front yard.

“Whose house?” Phillip asked
. Nearly breathless, he struggled with even those two words.

“A man I’ve known all my life,” she said, “but he’s not home now.”

She could explain more once they were safe and she saw to Phillip’s wound. Shae rushed up the steps onto the porch where King had slapped her. She grasped the doorknob and rattled it. She cursed her father bitterly for locking up before he’d left here.

“I didn’t think a lady ought to know those words, much less let them pass her lips,” Phillip said over her shoulder.

She whirled to glare at him, but her anger died at the sight of his weak smile. God help him, he was trying to joke. As if some pitiful jest might relieve the horrors of this day.

Feeling more exposed than ever, she led Phillip around the house to the back door
. It, too, refused to budge. Jerking it in frustration, she was rewarded by an unexpected click. She leaned into the stuck door and forced it open.

As she preceded Phillip inside, her heart raced like a bird’s
. Could King still be inside, waiting for her?

Abandoning her companion, she rushed from room to room until she could assure herself the house was empty
. When she returned to the kitchen, she found Phillip in a Windsor chair. He breathed noisily, staring past the mess still on the table. One hand pressed against the handkerchief atop his shoulder.

“I’ll find some clean linens to make a better bandage,” Shae offered as she laid the carpetbag down on the counter of a cabinet
. In less than a minute she returned, carrying a stack of bed sheets that reached to her chin.

When Phillip’s tired gaze met hers, he smiled again
. “I thought you were going to bandage me, not mummify me. I don’t think I’m bad enough to warrant
that
much cloth.”

Shae set the stack down in an empty chair, then gazed at the remnants of the half-eaten food
. She tried without success to push aside the thought that it was Lucius’s last meal. “I think I may as well start with your mouth. Come on. Let’s go to the parlor. I’m so tired. I need to sit down, too.”

She walked into the front room, and her gaze settled on the shattered dancer, on the table that still lay on its side
. She shuddered, thinking of what might have happened here.

“Come back here instead
. I can’t concentrate, if I have to see this.” Shae led him to a small bedroom that Claire had once decorated for visits from occasional guests. A cream-colored, woven spread covered an oak bed with a tall headboard, and a matching highboy completed the set. Shae’s gaze lingered on an oil portrait of a ballerina, one she had painted for the Olivers last Christmas. Claire and Lucius had been so happy then. Now it seemed a thousand years ago.

“Yours?” Phillip asked, guessing.

She nodded.

“It’s extraordinary.” He leaned forward, as if trying to memorize each detail
. Caught forever in a pirouette, the dancer looked away, apparently absorbed by her own efforts.