To Seduce a Rogue (20 page)

“I guessed they would when she settled down.”

“If any settling was going to happen, it would have already happened.”

Kath kissed his neck and smiled when his muscles twitched in response. “I just worry about her. She’s alone now. Besides, I’m her best friend. Wouldn’t she tell me?”

“She doesn’t know it yet.” He caught her gaze, a small smile spreading across his lips. “Hell, neither does he.”

“Oh? And
you
do?” she asked and sucked lightly on the skin beneath his ear.

“Kath, honey, if you keep this up” —he rolled her beneath him, desire sharpening his features— “we’re not going to finish this conversation.”

“What conversation?” She sighed against his lips.

“Exactly.”

* * *

A loud noise woke Adam, jarring him from sleep and a rather enchanting dream: he and Charlie in his bed Widow Davis’. Strange how your conscious mind was present during dreams because instead of holding her and doing all the usual things, he’d been desperately trying to get a good look at her nude body.

Like he was a voyeur in his own dream.

He lifted his head and squinted. The office. He had fallen asleep at his desk. What time was it? Somewhere in his mind the putrid smell of tobacco and whiskey registered. He swiveled in his chair.

Tom Walker stood just inside the office, leaning against the doorjamb, hanging onto it actually. His blond hair swirled in wild tufts on his head. A blue chambray shirt bunched out of his trousers. Beer or whiskey, or both, drifted from him. His slit-eyed gaze passed Adam, then swung back. He stumbled, righted himself, and made his way to Adam’s desk. He stopped as his knees collided, sending the desk skidding back along the floor.

The lantern cast enough light to discern Tom’s features. Misery, anger and betrayal twisted his normally placid face. His eyes were bloodshot, his lips pressed together so hard that a pale ring circled them. His hands coiled in fists by his side as he released a harsh breath.

The stance struck a familiar chord in Adam: the fists, the clenched teeth, the eyes. He pushed his chair back. The man looked ready to do battle. “Tom, what are you doing here?”

Tom leaned into the desk, and it slid back another inch. “You bastard. You greedy bastard.”

Adam shook his hands, loosening up his fingers like Eaton had always told him to do in preparation for a fight. He hoped this wasn’t going to go that far. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Tom clutched the edge of the desk like a lifeline. He drew a breath and expelled it on what sounded, oddly enough, like a sob. “What did you do to her?”

“Do to whom?” But, really, who else could it be?

Tom’s hand shot over the desk, scattering paper and sending the new inkwell to the floor. Adam cast a droll glance at his legs.
I need to buy cheaper trousers if this is what is going to come of all of them
.

Tom lunged over the desk, grasping Adam’s shoulders. The force of the movement drove them both to the floor. For a moment, they were nothing but a tangle of arms and legs. Adam was the taller, more muscular of the two, but Tom’s anger supplemented his strength. He connected with Adam’s cheekbone.

Rage and denied jealousy had Adam’s heart pumping, blood pounding in his ears. He fought to stay in control.

For all his good intentions, he could not check the image of Charlie locked in this man’s arms. Tom swung at him again and missed, leaving his face unprotected. Adam raised his fist, putting all his weight behind it. A swift jolt of pain entered his knuckles and raced up his arm.

Adam heard the crack of bone. A nose, most likely.

Swearing, he pushed himself against the wall. He flexed his hand and shoved aside the guilt. He had not been the aggressor. He glanced at Tom, who was groaning, but conscious. Adam blew on his stinging knuckles and said, “Get up, damn you.”

Tom brought his hand to his face. Blood had begun to dribble from his nose to the floor. A thin line ran down his lips and his chin, soaking into his stiff collar.

Adam huffed a disgusted breath and hauled himself to his feet. He touched his cheekbone, wincing. A knot was forming. He grabbed one of Gerald’s press rags and threw it. The cloth hit Tom square on the forehead and flopped to the floor. Jutting his chin, Tom seized it without comment.

Adam leaned against the press. He made a hasty survey of his appearance. Torn shirt. Trousers again spotted with ink. Face surely beginning to bruise.

He hoped Widow Davis was asleep when he got home.

Tom staggered to his feet, the rag pressed to his nose and thankfully hiding most of his face. When he spoke, the words were muffled behind cloth. “Don’t damn me, damn
you
.”

Adam advanced on the man, his anger, like his cheek, beginning to throb. “Spit it out, Walker. Whatever it is you came here to say.”

Tom dropped the rag, where it landed on the desk in a defeated crumple. The stench rippling off him in waves was definitely the Four Leaf Clover’s signature fragrance: cheap perfume, tobacco, whiskey. He spoke through lips glazed with blood. “Charlotte has been different since you arrived in Edgemont. I don’t know why I’m surprised. This newspaper, and anything connected with it, has always been the only thing to matter to her.” He walked to the press, brushing his hand lightly over the metal plates.

Adam watched him, questions flooding his mind. Had Tom ever stopped by the office to talk with Charlie about her work? The editorials she was writing? Did he even know what he was touching? Did he care?

More importantly, what had happened tonight to make him behave this way?

Tom glanced at Adam, then away. “I waited for her to grow up, you know. Since she was in short dresses, I’ve wanted her. Something about her eyes...they always had that
look
, like she knew more than you did, like she was wise and pure all at the same time. Energy and life always bubbled from her, more than you could gather from a hundred different people.” He stacked and restacked a set of type, his hands shaking. “She never was interested in the things I’m interested in. And I’m not interested in the things she’s interested in.”

The metal type fell from his fingers to the press as his gaze found Adam’s. “Yeah, but
you
are.”

Adam’s mind chose that moment to spill an image of Charlie in his bed, her legs tangled with his, their breaths mingling as he moved inside her. Heat blew over his face, and he turned away. “If you mean the
Sentinel
, yes.”

“I don’t think the
Sentinel
is all you share. I can’t say, for sure. But I’ve watched the two of you. Looks pass between you, like you’re speaking when you’re not. Like a set of damned twins of something.” Tom swiped his wrist across his lips, sliding blood across his check and into his hair. It lit the blond tips like fire. “I hope you haven’t touched her, when you’re only planning on high-tailing it out of here.”

Adam stared hard at the floor, blinking back the fury tinting his vision. “You better shut your mouth, Walker, or I’ll shut it for you.”

“Don’t think I’m going to make it better if you ruin her. I proposed tonight, and she turned me down,” Tom said and threw a letter against the wall.

Adam closed his eyes, praying it was a Q or a Z. If it was a vowel, they were in trouble. “I’m not your problem, Walker.”

“I can’t get past thinking your coming here changed her answer. Changed her mind. Changed her feelings. I’m not blind enough to think she was in love with me, but I assumed she would say ‘yes’ when I finally asked. I thought she would grow to love me like I love her. Forget all this newspaper business.”

“Maybe you don’t know her. Nobody in this wretched town seems to.”Ada’s hand twitched, reaching to hold back the words.

Tom laughed, a ragged, tortured sound. “Ah, no one but you, you mean?”

“I work with her. That’s all there is to it.”

Tom slapped the press. “That’s what she said, and I didn’t believe her, either.” He passed through the archway, the door slamming behind him. Adam heard him stumble on the boardwalk. Soon after, with a curse, the irregular footfalls resumed.

Adam walked to the door. Lifting his finger to the glass, he traced the crack in the pane. They needed to be replaced. Maybe a thick wooden door would be a better idea. Someone was always slamming this one, shaking the panes like beans in a bag.

I’ve watched the two of you together...looks pass between you...like you’re speaking when you’re not
.

When had Tom seen that?

I just hope to hell you haven’t touched her, when you’re only planning on high-tailing it out of here
.

Adam’s cheek throbbed in time with his heartbeat. The smell of ink in the office suddenly seemed too solid. He stuck his mouth near the crack in the glass. A draft hit his cheek, and he drew a deep breath.

Was he letting emotions he was not even sure he felt show? Was Charlie in danger of being compromised? He knew the people of this town would not give her a fair trial. They would convict her—guilty as hell from the first moment.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. Were they guilty?

Were they both guilty?

Ardor

Great warmth of feeling; fervor; passion.

Charlie’s rapid step moved her with brisk efficiency along the boardwalk. She was receiving more than the average odd glances today. Could they know about last night? About the disastrous scene in her front yard?

Right out of the clear blue, Tom had asked her to marry him.

Marry him
, for heaven’s sake. She cringed as she recalled her awkward, inept rejection. Telling him they would always be friends. He’d laughed at that—a nasty, awful laugh. Very unlike the gentle man she had known since childhood. He had loved her
forever
, he’d said.

She flushed and glanced around, as if the eyes of the whole town were watching. Only two storefronts ahead, the
Sentinel
office sign shook in the light afternoon breeze. A safe haven.

She’d skipped church this morning, another sin to add to a long list. She was a coward. Could she ever face Tom again? The look in his eyes...oh, her chest tightened up like a raisin just thinking about it. He hadn’t cried, thank the Lord. Though he’d looked like he was going to. And...the things he’d
said
. It just did not bear repeating, even in the privacy of her own mind.

Miles and Kath had invited her to dinner next week, and she prayed they had not heard about the debacle. She didn’t think she could sit across the table from Adam, who would surely be in attendance, and discuss her romantic future.

Or lack thereof.

She pushed against the
Sentinel
door with a sigh. Regarding Adam Chase, she wasn’t guilty of anything except a few shameful thoughts, a wicked dream or two and an exceptional, once-in-a-lifetime kiss.

She was twenty-fours years old! Surely, most women her age had more to repent for. All she’d really experienced before you-know-who came to town were two stolen kisses with Johnny Appleton under an old maple tree in his front yard, and some awkward, enthusiastic groping from her shy suitor of
fourteen years
.