He had his back to her, and she couldn’t see his face, but he drew his shoulders up for a moment but then released them. “I will do all that I can to protect you.” Turning, he looked at her, and for just a second she saw the deep pain that was inside him.
I must make him laugh, she thought. His sense of humor was what drew him out of himself. She began to unbutton her shirt.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.
“I’ve ordered a bath to be brought up and I’m going to get into a tub full of hot water.”
Alex looked shocked for a moment, then his face relaxed. Yet again, the pain was hidden. “And I’m going to wash your back for you.”
“Eliza’s going to do that.”
“Then I’ll wash her chest.”
Cay laughed, as he’d bested her. She couldn’t top that one. “Turn around. I have to remove this binding strip before I go to bed.”
“You slept in a corset, so why can’t you sleep in that?” he asked as he turned his back to her.
“A corset enhances what’s on top, but this thing . . . Oh, there. Yes, that’s wonderful. True heaven. You can turn back around now.”
Turning, Alex looked at her and wished he hadn’t. She had the shirt on and it was buttoned, but it left little to the imagination. “Why in the world those men thought you were a boy is beyond me.”
“Thank you,” Cay said as she sat on the end of the bed and removed her shoes and her stockings.
“That’s it. Not one more thing are you to take off.”
Cay couldn’t help smiling. She’d been paid many compliments in her life, but what Alex said seemed more real. He wasn’t saying nice things to her because he knew her family was rich or that she stood to inherit a lot, but because she was, well, desirable. For all the comfort of boy’s clothes, she liked being a girl better.
Still smiling, still mostly dressed, she got into the bed on the side by the window, pulled the light covers over her, and watched Alex as he moved about the room. She thought how someday she’d be married and alone in a bedroom with a man she loved and they’d be a true husband and wife.
Alex removed his boots and his vest, but as he started to unbutton his shirt, he looked at her and stopped. As she did, he slipped into bed wearing most of his clothes, blew out the candle, and pulled the cover over him.
Cay lay in the darkness, listening to him breathe. They’d spent several nights together, but, somehow, being alone in this small room seemed more intimate. Between them was the long, heavy round pillow, but she knew he was near her.
She was tired from a long day on horseback and wanted to go to sleep, but she could hear Alex’s breath coming on fast and strong and she knew that something was upsetting him. It took her a moment to figure it out, but then she realized that this was probably the first time he’d slept in a bed and a room since the night his wife had been murdered.
Had been murdered, she thought and realized she’d remembered it in terms that said Alex didn’t do it. “What was she like?” Cay asked softly.
“Quiet,” he said, and at first she thought he was saying he wanted her, Cay, to stop talking. But she could hear his breath and she knew she’d been right in guessing what he was thinking about.
“Not like me then?” she asked.
“No, not like you. She was quiet and gentle and refined.”
“She didn’t spend her days jumping back and forth on a horse, did she?”
“No. But I will say that I enjoyed some of your jumping quite a bit.”
Cay could hear and feel the uneasiness beginning to leave him. Her strategy was working. Turning on her side, she put her head on her hand and looked at him across the big pillow. He was on his back and she could see his profile in the moonlight that came in through the window. “Tell me about her.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Where did she grow up? What was her family like? Where did she go to school? How many brothers and sisters did she have?”
“I don’t know,” Alex said, and there was wonder in his voice. “I don’t know the answer to any of those questions.”
“You don’t know where she grew up?”
“No.” Turning, Alex looked at her. “I never asked and she never told me. But then, we were together for such a short time.”
Cay lay back on the pillow. “That’s odd. I told you about my family ten minutes after we met.”
“Aye, you did, lass. You’ve told me so much about your life and your family that I feel I know them. But Lilith wasn’t like you. She said little, just what was important.”
“But family is important. Family is everything. I know your father means a lot to you. Did you tell your wife about him?”
“I did. I told her a great deal about my life in Scotland and about my dad. She liked to listen to the stories. She couldn’t understand me when I didn’t speak with the American accent, but I couldn’t blame her for that, now could I?”
Cay was glad to hear the humor in his voice and she was pleased to hear his breathing slow down. She’d done what she intended and calmed him. Of course it did cross her mind that if she had any sense at all she’d not spend the night locked in a room with a man who’d been convicted for cutting the throat of the woman lying beside him.
Just as she felt his change in mood, he knew when there was a difference in her breathing. “If you’d rather I went into another room, I will.”
“No,” she said. “I feel safer with you here.”
He didn’t say anything for a while, then he reached across the big pillow and took her small hand in his. “Thank you for that. You’re only the second person who has believed in me.”
Cay liked his big, warm hand on hers—liked it too much. She removed her hand and turned on her side, facing away from him. “If you go off into Florida without showing me how to do that handkerchief trick, I’ll take it all back.” She smiled when she heard him chuckle, and his breathing eased and she heard him go to sleep. His soft, quiet breathing relaxed her, but she looked at the moon out the window and thought about what was going to happen in the next few days.
Thanks to her many questions, she’d been able to piece together his “plan” for her. His intent was to dump her on some friends of Uncle T.C. while Alex went exploring. After a week or two, still dressed as a boy, Cay was to travel back to her parents’ home in Virginia and hope that nothing ever came about because of her escapade of helping a criminal escape. There was no more talk of trying to prove Alex’s innocence as there had been at first. Somewhere along the way, he seemed to have dropped that idea. For the last couple of days he’d spoken only of Cay returning to her family and safety.
Had he given up his thoughts of justice? she wondered. And if he had, had he done it because of her? The way he spoke now, he meant to go into the jungles of wild Florida and maybe never return.
But she’d heard the difference in his voice when he spoke of the past. When he talked about his horses, he was full of energy, even excitement. He’d left his homeland and his father with hope for his future life.
Just as I have a plan for mine, Cay thought. She knew what she wanted out of life, and so did he. He’d even started working on it while he still lived in Scotland. She smiled at the memory of his story about illegally mating his mare with a “great beast” of a stallion. He’d done it so he could get to America and someday have his own farm, with his own wife and children.
He wants exactly what I do, she thought, and sadness nearly overwhelmed her as she realized that it was possible that she’d get the future she wanted, but Alex never would. For all his life, he’d be haunted by the fact that he’d been convicted of murder and had escaped hanging by just one day.
But what if Nate got her letter and went to Charleston and found out the truth about who killed Alex’s wife? Knowing who killed someone wouldn’t bring that person back to life. While it was true that Alex could possibly be cleared of the murder charges, he’d never get ba
ck the woman he loved. Such a tragic happening would take years to recover from—if he ever did.
“Stop thinking so hard,” Alex said. “It’s keeping me awake.”
“All right,” she said. “It’s just that I don’t think that going to Florida will solve anything.”
“Nor do I,” he said, “but right now it’s the only thing I can do. We need to sleep, as I plan to leave very early.”
“Maybe if I bury my face in your hair and smell the jasmine, I’ll be able to fall asleep.”
“Don’t even think of touching me.”
“Yes, Mr. McDowell,” she said as she closed her eyes.
Eleven
The next morning, well before daylight, Alex told Cay to get out of bed, but she couldn’t seem to wake up. “We need to go, so put that thing on your chest and let’s leave.”
“I want my chocolate,” Cay mumbled as she tried to stand up. “And I want to take a bath.”
“You had a bath two days ago. Now get dressed.”
As soon as Alex went to the other side of the room, she fell across the bed and was asleep instantly.
“Up!” he said as he grabbed the waistband of her breeches and pulled. “Fall down like that again and I’ll give you a smack across that round little bottom of yours.”
“You’re cruel.” She couldn’t seem to get her eyes open and she was standing, but she swayed on her feet.
“Cay!” he said sharply. “Get dressed.”
“Am dressed,” she mumbled.
He picked up the binding cloth and tossed it on to her shoulder, but she just stood there. When she didn’t move, he said, “So help me, I’m tempted to leave you here! I’ve already been downstairs and the barman’s found out his daughter ran off with the stable lad. The man knows someone here helped them. If I left you here, there’s no way you’d keep your mouth closed and not brag that you arranged everything. He’d probably have you put in jail.”
Cay opened one eye. “You wouldn’t actually leave without me, would you?”
Alex, fully dressed, paused at the door. “Five minutes. If you aren’t at the horses in five minutes you won’t see me again.” With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him.
Cay stood still for a full minute. He was, of course, lying, but on the other hand, maybe he wasn’t. Four and a half minutes after Alex left the room, Cay was outside the barn, standing beside her mare and yawning. Alex was nowhere to be seen. When he walked out of the tavern, two steaming mugs in his hands, she said, “You took long enough. I’ve been waiting for hours.” She saw a hint of a smile under his whiskers, but he just handed her a mug. “Where’s breakfast?”
“This is it. The barman’s too angry to cook. The man he wanted his daughter to marry is in there.”
When he said nothing else, she said, “So what’s he like?”
Alex’s eyes showed his merriment. “Very old, very ugly.”
She drained her mug and headed toward the tavern, but he caught her arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To tell the man about jasmine oil. It makes even old, ugly men look good.”
“Get on your horse,” Alex said, laughing. “If we ride hard for the next two days we can be there by tomorrow evening.”
“Tomorrow?” she asked, and that word woke her up. Just one more day.
Alex looked at her from atop his horse. “Will you miss me, lass?”
She wanted to say that she’d be glad to see her family, but the words wouldn’t come out of her mouth. When she saw Alex’s frown, she knew he was starting to worry again. “Did I tell you about Ephraim?” she asked as she got on her horse.
“Is he the third suitor?”
She followed him out of the courtyard and on to the road. “Yes. He’s forty-two, a widower, and he has three nearly grown children.”
“Lass, please tell me you’re making a jest.”
“No. He’s quite wealthy, has a beautiful house, and—”
“But does he makes your heart dance with joy at the very sight of him?”
“I do believe, Alex McDowell, that you’re the most romantic man I’ve ever met.”
“Except, of course, for Adam.”
“On long winter evenings, Adam writes poetry.”
Alex groaned. “I hope I never meet your perfect brother.”
When Cay looked at Alex, it occurred to her that he might never meet any of her family.
He saw her face change, saw the gleam leave her eyes. “Are you ready to ride? Can you keep up with me?”
“I can outride you any day of the week.”
“That’s better. No more sadness, now. You’ll be rid of me soon enough.” Turning, he started down the road at a rapid pace, Cay close behind him.
As they traveled deeper south, they began to run out of towns and even roads. They passed huge, magnificent plantations that were more like villages than houses. Acres of fields full of indigo, cotton, and rice bordered the rutted, weed-infested roads they rode on.
Where there weren’t plantations, there were tiny, falling-down houses that all seemed to have a dozen children running around them. It was a marked contrast between the very wealthy and the very poor.
Cay looked at everything the best she could while keeping up with the grueling pace Alex set. Once in a while, he’d turn and ask if she was all right and she always nodded.
The sun became brighter, the sky more blue, the people and buildings more sparse. She pulled her straw hat down over her head to shade her eyes from the glare and kept riding.
At noon they stopped by a stream and ate and drank.
“Still wishing you were home?” Alex asked.
She looked about her at the tall, narrow-trunked palm trees and the huge ferns. “No, I don’t think I do.”
“Not even for your two men?”
“Three men.”
“You aren’t really serious about the one with grown children, are you? How old is the oldest child?”
“A son, eighteen.”
Alex put the stopper back in the canteen. “He’ll climb into bed with you.”
“He would never do such a thing. He’s a very nice boy. He’s studying law.”
“Oh, then, if he’s a lawyer he must be of sterling character.”
“You’re horrible.”
“Never said I wasn’t.” He mounted his horse and looked down at her. “If you eliminate the old man, that leaves you with a preacher and a gambler. Lass, you need to think hard about who you’re going to marry.” Chuckling, he led his horse back to the narrow road.
As Cay mounted her mare, she stuck her tongue out at Alex’s back. But he turned and saw her—and he laughed in a way that made her want to hit him.
They rode for hours more, and the roads narrowed until they were little more than pathways. Twice they stopped at houses so Alex could ask directions. Each time the people invited them inside, as the owners were hungry for company and news of the outside world. Cay wanted to stay, wanted to get off the horse and walk around, but Alex always said no. At one house, a pretty girl, about sixteen, looked at Cay from under her lashes and gave her a big piece of cornbread. But the girl offered nothing to Alex.
When they were back on their horses, Cay ate the cornbread with gusto. “I do believe this is the very best cornbread I’ve ever had. Mmmm. So delicious.” She didn’t offer Alex even a bite. “You do know why she gave this to me, don’t you?” she asked.
Alex said nothing.
“She was flirting with me, that’s why. And she was flirting because she thought I was a boy.”
Alex looked her up and down. Her breeches clung to her thighs, her hair was about her shoulders, and her big hat made a shade like a veil over her face. He thought she couldn’t look more feminine. “You have just proven that people are stupid.”
“They see what they’re supposed to. When are we going to stop for the night? Are there any taverns around here?”
“Not on this road. Are you going to share that or no
t?”
Cay had a big chunk of uneaten cornbread in her hand. “I’ll sell it to you.”
“You have the money.”
“I don’t want money. I want you to tell me what the plan for me is.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “As if you haven’t already figured that out.”
“You mean you saw behind all my subtle questions?”
“You don’t know the meaning of subtle.”
“All right, so tell me a story about when you were a little boy.”
“How about if I tell you that when I was in prison I shared the cell with rats? Or maybe you’d like to hear about the townspeople throwing rocks at me when I was dragged into the courtroom?”
Cay’s face lost its smile and she handed the cornbread to him.
He ate it in two bites. “That soft heart of yours is going to get you in trouble one day. I win!” He kicked his horse forward.
“You—” she called as he raced ahead of her. Blast it! Why hadn’t she listened when Tally wanted to teach her curse words? “You’re a very bad person, Alexander McDowell!” she called out, and his laughter floated back to her, but by then she was smiling, too.
Twelve
“What if those people at the boardinghouse don’t like me?” Cay asked.
Alex was kicking the remains of the fire out. “How could they not like you?” he asked softly.
“What?”
“I said that you’re not going to live with them forever, just a few weeks, so you’ll be fine.”
“How many weeks?”
“I don’t know.” He stepped on a branch that was still smoldering. When he glanced up at Cay, she was looking at him as though she thought he knew the answers to all her questions. “Lass, I really don’t know what to expect. I can’t very well ask someone what they’ve heard about the escaped murderer from Charleston, now can I?”
Cay sat down on a log and thought she might stay there. According to Uncle T.C.’s map—which she’d just seen—they were a mere three hours from the tiny town on the St. Johns River where Alex was to meet Mr. Grady. The town had a dozen or so houses, a trading post, and a few other stores. One of the houses took in paying customers, and that’s where she was to stay. She’d thought she was to be the guest of “friends” of T.C.’s, but it was just a boardinghouse.