The Moon and the Stars (6 page)

“Dammit,” he ground out. He did not like the way he was thinking. But if he was going to be honest with himself, he would never have made the trip to Charleston to meet with Brace Duncan if the man had not sent him the tintype in the mail. Something had compelled him to learn more about the woman in the picture, and so far, he was disgusted by what he had witnessed, with the soldiers trailing in and out of her house.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and he stepped back behind the curtain. His jaw hardened
when he watched a man in uniform approach Mrs. Duncan's house; the soldier entered at her invitation. Maybe the angel-face had a way of getting what she wanted without spending Brace Duncan's money.

Wade remained patiently at his watch. An hour passed, and then two—then dusk fell and the soldier left. A short time later, she invited another man into her home, and this one remained for well over an hour.

He did not even want to think what was happening in that house, but visions of her locked in a steamy embrace with the sweaty soldier haunted him.

His lip curled into a snarl, and anger coiled inside him. It would be a pleasure to take Caroline Duncan back to Charleston, where she would answer for her crimes.

It had been a week since the bounty hunter had ridden into town. Caroline had been nervous about venturing out of the house for fear of coming face to face with the man. Although Nelly had tried to convince her that he wasn't after her, doubt still plagued her, and fear had crept into her mind once more. At night when she went to bed, she would lie awake for hours and jump at each noise.

It had been cloudy for most of the morning, but the sun had broken through just after noon. Caroline's supply of thread was scant, and she was running low on food.

There was no help for it—she would have to leave the safety of her home and go to Liggett's store.

It was the last Saturday of the month, and the streets were crowded with ranchers who had come into town for their monthly supplies. Caroline's heart lightened as she stopped to speak to several friends. The Reverend and Mrs. Strand wanted to talk about
the harvest-day picnic next week. Before she took leave of them, she promised to bake a chocolate cake, and to help dish out food at the event.

She paused before entering the store and cast a furtive glance toward Nelly's boardinghouse as if she expected Mr. Renault to appear at any moment. She pushed the door open wide and was welcomed by the bell tinkling overhead.

Mrs. Liggett, a gossip but a very kind person who could only find good things to say about her neighbors, greeted her warmly. Caroline moved to the back of the store, concentrating on the threads she needed and choosing among the colored spools. She also wanted three yards of white muslin to finish a petticoat for Nelly. She lifted a heavy bolt and started toward the front of the store so Mrs. Liggett could cut it for her.

In her mind, she was going down a list of things she needed to purchase. She needed a sack of potatoes for the stew she was making for Nelly, who would be having lunch with her after church service on Sunday.

Caroline didn't see the man until she rounded a table piled high with bolts of material and slammed into him. The impact took her breath away and sent the spools of thread she had been carrying rolling in every direction, but she did manage to hold on to the bolt of muslin. When she raised her gaze to him, she could not move or speak.

It was Wade Renault.

She was frozen in place as she stared into piercing eyes that seemed to look right into her mind and discover all her secrets. He was a predator, and in that moment she was his prey.

He smiled slightly and reached out to steady her by laying his hand on her shoulder. His gaze slowly moved over her features as he examined each lovely detail.

She cringed away from him, and shoved the muslin onto the table with the other bolts of fabric. “Take your hand off me!”

Seeing that she was terrified, he dropped his hand from her shoulder. “Forgive me, madame,” he said with a clipped French accent. “I was thinking of something else and did not see you. I ask for your pardon.”

Although Nelly had told her that Mr. Renault had an accent, when she actually heard him speak, it took her by surprise. She bent down to gather up the thread just so she could have something to do with her hands. She had not expected Mr. Renault to bend down at the same time to help her.

He frightened her so badly that she shot to her feet and pressed her hand over her heart. Caroline did not want to be so close to a hired killer, a man who made money from others' misery.

Renault scooped up the thread and held it out to her, but she shook her head and backed away from him.

“I am afraid you will have to untangle it,” he remarked with seeming concern. Then his gaze met hers. “You must be Mrs. Richmond.”

He could not have said anything that would have frightened her more than using her name. The lie she would have uttered, denying who she was, went dry in her throat.

She ignored the thread he held out to her and bumped into the table piled high with bolts of material,
sending several of them scattering and unrolling across the floor.

“Mrs. Richmond,” he said, stooping to retrieve the bolts of material. “Let me help you.”

She wanted to run from the danger she sensed in him, but she seemed to be rooted to the spot. She was aware of noises around her—the ticking of the wall clock over the counter, Mr. Liggett talking to a customer, even the sound of a wagon passing by out front.

She watched him place the bolts back on the table and methodically align them as they had been before.

“I must go,” she said breathlessly.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his gaze never leaving hers.

Without answering, she darted around him and hurried out the door. At first she just walked fast, and then she ran, not stopping until she reached her house. Once inside, she slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, trying to catch her breath.

When she heard someone coming up the porch steps, she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming in fear. When she heard Mr. Renault's voice, she cringed.

“Madame, Mrs. Richmond, may I speak to you?”

She didn't move or answer and kept her weight pressed against the door, hoping he would just go away.

His voice suddenly became mocking and arrogant.

“I know you are in there because I saw you enter.”

His high-handed attitude shoved every sane thought out of her mind, and she was left with only anger. How
dare he follow her home, and then demand to enter her house? Without hesitation she whisked the door open and glared at him. “You have no right to be here. Why did you follow me?” she demanded.

There was nothing threatening in his pose at the moment. He seemed genuinely puzzled by her attitude. “I ask your pardon, madame, if I have frightened you. I only wanted to return this.” He held her reticule out to her. “You dropped it when you left in such a hurry.”

Her anger died and embarrassment took its place; the telltale sign of her humiliation showed on her flushed cheeks.

“I . . . didn't realize I had dropped it.” Slowly she raised her gaze to his, and she had the feeling that she was drowning in those penetrating eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

He handed her the purse. “Madame, I am accustomed to people having an adverse reaction to me. I suppose it's because of my profession.”

Nelly had been right, this had to be the most striking man she had ever met. He stood at least six feet two. He was lean, and his shoulders were wide. His hair was so dark that it almost had a blue sheen to it. His eyes, which she had first thought to be brown, were actually an unusual amber color. His face was rugged and handsome, and his demeanor, even while he smiled, was intimidating.

On first seeing him, she had sensed that he was not a man to trifle with, and that impression was even stronger now. She knew in her heart that he was dangerous and unpredictable. If he had come for her, she would not stand a chance of escaping him.

As if he sensed her fear, he retreated down the steps. “Are you all right, madame? You seem upset about something.”

She shook her head because she was having difficulty finding her voice. She gripped the door handle and stepped back inside. “Thank you for bringing me my purse. Please go now.”

He settled his hat on his head and gave her a nod. “As you wish. If I can be of any assistance to you, my name is Wade Renault, and I'm staying at the boardinghouse for a few days.”

Her heart was hammering in her ears as she heard the man's retreating steps. Her short encounter with him had been far more frightening than the incident in Savannah.

The truth hit her hard. She would not run this time because if he was after her, he would catch her in the end. Nelly had been right; it was better to face him here among friends than to be on her own again. He had given her no reason to suspect him—not by word or deed. It was just a feeling she had deep inside.

She opened her purse to see if anything was missing. To her surprise, the thread she had dropped in Liggett's store was there, and it was untangled—she wondered how he had accomplished such a feat in so short a period of time. And had he paid for it? He must have. Otherwise, he could not have just walked out of the store with it.

Caroline had just taken the last stitch on the gown for Captain Flynn's wife. She had promised to deliver it to the fort as soon as it was finished because Tessy Flynn was going to wear it for the ball tonight.

She arranged her straw bonnet on her head and tied the blue velvet ribbons beneath her chin. She carefully picked up the folded gown and draped it over her arm so it would not wrinkle. It was only a mile to the fort, and Caroline enjoyed the walk along the river.

As she stepped outside, the sun was shining brightly even though there was a bank of storm clouds in the west. She would have to hurry if she was going to get the gown to Mrs. Flynn before it started to rain.

As she walked through town, a cowhand tipped his hat to her. She paused long enough to hear Mrs. Simmons inquiring about Mrs. Gray's toothache and to advise the lady to pack it in cinnamon oil.

She was relieved when the gown was safely delivered without mishap. She stayed with Tessy long enough to take a cup of tea before starting back to town.

Heavy raindrops had just begun to fall as she reached Main Street. She ducked beneath the overhang of the
San Sebastian Gazette
, waiting until the shower passed. After a few moments the clouds scattered, and she continued on her way home.

She heard a rider approaching, and she glanced up just as the man dismounted in front of the post office. He had looped his horse's reins around the hitching post and climbed the steps toward her.

It was Wade Renault.

He casually leaned against a post, his entire attention focused on her. She felt the heat of his gaze, and she realized he was willing her to look at him, but she kept her head lowered

“Mrs. Richmond,” he said, touching the brim of his hat.

She started to step around him, but he blocked her path. She raised an angry gaze to him. “Move aside.”

“I was only going to wish you a good day.”

She felt an intensity in him that made her step back. Her heart was hammering in her breast like a wild thing, and she felt as if it might burst out of her body at any moment. She was so frightened she could hardly think straight.

“How do you always manage to find me?” she demanded, finally looking into his eyes.

He smiled slowly. “You are assuming I came in search of you?”

Much to her embarrassment, she felt a flush climb up her face. “You always seem to be where I am.”

He tapped a letter against the palm of his hand. “This is the post office, is it not? I am here to mail this letter.”

“I . . . yes, I see.”

“Good day to you, madame.”

She dashed around him with hurried steps. She wanted to run, but she didn't want him to think she was afraid of him. No matter what he said or did, she knew in her heart that he had come to San Sebastian to look for her.

Wade stood by the window, glancing down at Mrs. Duncan's house. She had been terrified of him again, and that bothered him, although he could not have said why. He seated himself in the overstuffed chair and propped his long legs on a cowhide ottoman.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew the small tintype and traced the lines of her lips. He had seen those lips tremble in fear today. He had stared into her eyes—he now knew they were a deep blue. The picture did not show the suppleness of her full mouth. For nearly three months he had wondered how her voice would sound. Now he knew. This afternoon, like the day in Liggett's store, her voice had trembled in fear, but the trembling did not hide the melodic tone or the fact that she spoke each word distinctly with a delightful Southern accent.

Brace Duncan had told him about his sister-in-law's past, and it did not fit with what he had seen of her today. She was the only child of a prominent Charleston family. Her mother had died years ago, and he knew that her father's health was failing because he had visited Mr. Richmond before coming to San Sebastian. He had introduced himself as one of Michael Duncan's friends. The father had been more than willing to talk about his daughter, and he did not even realize that Wade had been directing questions at him.

Mr. Richmond had been out of his mind with worry for his daughter's safety. He had not seen her since before the marriage. The elderly man had been distressed by Michael Duncan's death, and he had felt it was somehow his fault—though he did not share with Wade his reason for feeling that way.

There had been tears in the old man's eyes when he confessed that he feared his daughter might be dead. He had raved on and on about the evil in the Duncan household, and how no decent woman would go near the place.