Her stride quickened until she actually ran. Ran up to the door and burst through without a single knock to announce her arrival.
“Where is she?” Charlotte yelled, her throat scratching at the volume she’d never before attempted. She glanced quickly around the foyer, spotting Stone, Dorchester, and a third man standing to the right of the large central staircase. All three men turned to stare at her, Stone with cold indifference, Dorchester with shock dulling to impatience, and the third man with a smirk.
Charlotte ran at Stone like a bull toward a matador. “Where’s my daughter, you cold-hearted scoundrel?” She collided with his chest and pummeled him with her fists, wishing he were Dorchester.
The third man chuckled. “Guess she’s not so sweet on you after all, huh, Stone?”
“Shut up, Franklin.” Stone shoved her away from him and directly into Dorchester’s path.
“Franklin? The man who kidnapped my Lily?” Charlotte screeched and lunged toward him, claws bared. “I ought to scratch your eyes out for what you did!”
Franklin sidestepped her reach, so she altered course. A porcelain vase filled with red roses stood on a small mahogany table beneath a large mirror. It looked delicate, expensive. Charlotte smiled. Good.
She snatched the vase from the table, flowers and all, and hurled it at Franklin’s head.
“Watch it, lady!” Franklin dodged to the side and threw up an arm. The vase cracked against his elbow with a satisfying thunk before smashing upon the marble floor. Shards flew everywhere. Spilled water splashed the trousers of both Dorchester and Franklin, setting off a string of curses foul enough to put her to the blush. But the vulgarity only fueled her indignation. So she went for the table next, grabbing it up by the leg closest to her and flinging it with all her might at the men—men who no longer included Stone, she was happy to see.
Dorchester ducked, narrowly avoiding the table edge as it whipped past. “Crazy she-devil! What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m making a mess of your life just as you’ve made of mine!” She ran across the hall toward the matching table on the opposite side. It supported a rather ugly sculpture of a swan that looked as if it were about to lay an egg. “Close down my school . . .” Crash! The swan’s neck broke off, and the headless body skittered across the floor. “Make me flee my home then hunt me like a criminal . . .” She grabbed up the table.
Sensing the men closing in on her, she whirled, gripping the top of the table and swiping the legs in front of her to keep them back. They advanced as if to surround her, one on either side, arms extended, palms out as if she were a wild animal. Perhaps she was. Charlotte grinned. Who knew acting the shrew could be so invigorating?
Best of all, she had captured their full attention and drawn them away from the study. A quick glance told her Stone had not yet emerged. She needed to prolong the distraction. But how? She was running out of objects to smash and furniture to wave around.
The men edged closer. Too close. She needed to—
Franklin lunged. Charlotte flung the table at him and clipped his jaw with one of the legs. He jerked backward with a grunt, giving her just enough room to scamper along the wall out of his reach. Spying a slender bentwood coat and hat stand in the corner near the front door, she dashed in that direction.
“Stop her, Franklin!” Dorchester bellowed. “Do what I pay you for, man!”
Charlotte crowed in triumph when her fingers closed around the tall rack. She brandished it like a weapon, jabbing it in Franklin’s direction. Only, the man was smart enough not to come within striking distance this time. Yet neither did he give her room to escape her corner. He rubbed at the red mark on his jaw, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.
“I’ll take care of her,” he promised, his voice low, his eyes never leaving hers.
Charlotte swallowed. She didn’t like the way his hand twitched near the handle of his holstered revolver. He wouldn’t shoot her, would he?
Blood rushed in her ears, but this was no time to retreat. Stone was counting on her. She had to give him more time.
“You stole my daughter from me, you fiend!” Charlotte jabbed the bottom of the coat rack at Franklin’s middle.
He grabbed hold of the curved wood with both hands. Charlotte yanked her weapon back, but he held fast. “She ain’t even your kid, lady. Quit your belly-achin’ before I have to hurt you.”
Charlotte continued pulling at the coat rack, the tug-o-war straining her arms. But she was fighting for Lily. She wouldn’t let go.
“That’s right,” she sneered. “Hurt me. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Hurt innocent women and children.” She gave another hard yank. “And you!” she screamed at Dorchester when she caught him looking around as if only just noticing that Stone was missing. “Randolph Dorchester! You’re a vile, greedy man who’d corrupt your own granddaughter in order to line your pockets. You sicken me.”
The ploy worked. Dorchester turned back to glare at her and stopped glancing about for Stone, but it proved her undoing as well. Franklin took advantage of her shift of attention and snatched the coat rack from her with a jerk. Unprepared, Charlotte lost her grip and staggered forward as he wrested her weapon away.
Franklin flung the rack behind him. A loud crack sounded when it hit the floor, but Charlotte was more concerned about the meaty fist Franklin had raised. Pressing her body back into the corner, she brought up her arms to shield her face and head. She closed her eyes, but the blow never came.
“You never did know how to treat a woman, Franklin.”
Stone!
“And you do?”
Charlotte pulled her hands away from her face to see Franklin struggling to tear his arm away from Stone’s grip.
“You don’t see her throwing the furnishings at me, do you?” The smug grin on Stone’s face seemed so foreign, so . . . arrogant. Like a rogue bragging of his latest conquest.
“Only because you cowered in a corner somewhere far away from her,” Franklin retorted, finally yanking his arm free.
“She wouldn’t hurt me, would you, love? Not after all we’ve shared.” For a heartbeat, Stone reminded her of her father strutting about in front of an audience, flaunting his young lover in her mother’s face. And of the faithless Alexander, so confident in his charms, toying with her affections while betrothed to another. Betrayal speared through her chest, sharp and deep. Until Stone glanced at her, concern evident in his eyes. Concern and a bit of goading.
Remember to play your part.
Charlotte straightened and turned on Stone, ready to blast him with feigned temper. But what stirred in her breast wasn’t feigned at all. No, the memories of past betrayals mixed with her anger and fear of the present circumstance combined in a combustible formula. All the words she’d kept bottled inside since her father left suddenly exploded.
“You . . . you Lothario!” She struck out at Stone, burying her fist in his gut. Air whooshed from his lungs as he bent slightly. “You never really cared about me at all, did you? All you care about is yourself. Your perfect record. Your money. You seduced me with pretty words and stole my child. How could you? How could you?”
Unexpected sobs rose to choke her. Alarmed, she tried to stuff the emotion back down, but once it gained its freedom it would not be contained. She sagged against Stone, her strength depleted as she wept out the bitterness that had been trapped inside her for more than half her life. Her father’s betrayal. Her mother’s abandonment. Alexander’s perfidy.
Strong arms scooped her up like a babe with a tenderness that only made her weep harder.
“The fight’s gone out of her now, boys,” Stone said, his voice still grating with that obnoxious cocksure manner he’d adopted. “Dorchester, send your carriage around. I’ll give the lady some funds and send her on her way. She knows she’s lost this battle. She won’t be botherin’ you anymore.”
“Better make sure of that,” Dorchester grumbled. “I’ll have the hussy arrested for vandalism and a
ssault if she shows her face around here again.”
Stone nodded, his jaw rubbing against the top of Charlotte’s head as he carried her toward the front door. “I’ll take care of her. But if you don’t have my payment ready for me by the time I get back, I’ll be taking care of you next.”
“I don’t take kindly to threats, Hammond.” Dorchester’s hard voice penetrated Charlotte’s fog, making her stiffen in Stone’s arms.
But Stone never wavered. He responded in a tone so deadly, unpleasant shivers coursed down the length of her back. “And I don’t take kindly to employers who try to cheat me out of my fee.”
35
As soon as the door slammed behind them, Stone bent his face close to Charlotte’s. “Are you all right?” he whispered. Her sobs had cut him to the quick. “You know I didn’t mean any of the things I said in there, don’t you? It was all an act, Lottie. I swear it.”
“I know,” she said between sniffles as she fought to put the lid on her emotions. “I’m afraid I don’t have much experience with full-blown tantrums. I only intended to let my anger loose, but once the gate opened, old hurts surged to the fore as well.” She patted his chest with her palm, the touch causing his heart to twitch. “I’m afraid I took them out on you. Sorry about that.”
Lothario. You never really cared about me at all, did you? All you care about is yourself. Your perfect record. Your money. How could you? The words in Charlotte’s broken-hearted voice replayed through Stone’s mind. Her father. Had she ever given voice to that lingering hurt in all these years? Somehow he doubted it. She didn’t like to deal with the messiness of ugly feelings. She’d rather push them down, ignore them, never realizing that they would fester into bitterness and distrust. If pummeling his chest and throwing a few accusations around had rid her of some of that poison, he’d volunteer to go another round.
Stone smiled down at her. “At least you didn’t hurl a table at my head.”
Pink tinged her cheeks. “You saw that?”
“I kept an eye on you from the other room.” He winked as he strode down the steps and onto the walkway. She fidgeted as if ready to get down, but he didn’t release her. She felt too good in his arms.
All at once, as if she’d suddenly awoken from a faint, she lifted her head and latched onto the fabric of his shirt. Her eyes, intense and nearly feral, searched his face. “Did you find the ledger?”
He gave a brisk nod. “In my coat pocket.”
Stone brushed a quick kiss against her forehead, sure the broadness of his shoulders would block the view of anyone who might be looking on from the house. Then he reluctantly set her back on her feet, keeping an arm about her waist for support until she stood securely on her own.
“Here. Before the coachman arrives.” He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out the small black leather book. He’d quickly scanned the first couple pages before leaving the study and knew it was exactly what Lily had suspected it to be. A record of business transactions—transactions one wouldn’t list with his usual accounts.
Hiding the book between their two bodies, Stone flipped to a page near the beginning and tore it free.
“Give the book to Ashe for safekeeping, but hang on to the single page. I’ll need it later.”
She nodded and stuffed both into her skirt pocket.
The clip-clop of horses’ hooves echoed from behind the house. Stone glanced in that direction. The carriage would be out front in less than a minute.
“Ashe will rendezvous with you, lock up the ledger, then return here to keep an eye on the house until night falls. I’ll linger as long as I can, hammering out the fee with Dorchester.”
Charlotte bit her lip. “Remind me again why we can’t just take Lily with us now. Surely Mr. Ashe could—”
“We can’t risk tipping Dorchester off, Lottie. You know that.” Stone clasped her arms in a firm grip. “We have to secure the book first, secure our leverage. If we take Lily now, Franklin will come after us—and who knows how many others. You don’t want her caught up in that. Securing the book means securing her freedom. It has to be this way.” He glanced at the approaching carriage, set a scowl on his face for appearances, then whispered a final assurance. “Mrs. Johnson is with Lily. She’ll watch over her.”
Charlotte met his gaze and nodded her acceptance before wilting her posture in projected defeat as the carriage pulled abreast of them.
Heavens, but he was proud of her. She’d been magnificent. Charging through the hall with all the fire of an avenging angel. Focusing the wrath of two powerful men upon herself in order to buy him the time he needed.
It had almost been too long. Stone’s throat convulsed. When he thought about Franklin’s raised fist . . . He’d wanted to shoot the blackguard, or at the very least tackle him to the floor and bloody his face until it resembled pulverized meat just for thinking about hitting her. Only the knowledge that he’d halted the intended abuse had allowed him to keep his temper in check and his manner cool.
The driver hopped down from his perch and moved to open the carriage door. “Where to, miss?”
“The Sunny South Boarding House at Milam and Franklin, please,” Charlotte answered in a weary tone.
Stone held out a hand to her and assisted her into the carriage.
“Ah.” The chipper driver nodded. “Down by the bayou. That’s a pretty part of town.”
“I suppose.” She sounded so broken, Stone suffered a flicker of alarm. But when the driver closed the door and hustled back up onto his seat, Charlotte favored Stone with a wink and the barest hint of a smile. The woman must have inherited a flare for acting from her mother. She was a natural.
Stone wanted to grin his relief, but aware of the watching coachman, he forced his features to hold their stoic line. “It’s over, Miss Atherton.” He curled his fingers over the edge of the open carriage window. “The girl is with her family. Where she belongs. You’ll only bring grief upon her and yourself if you pursue this matter further. Dorchester’s threat is real. He will have you arrested if you try to make any more trouble. You’re lucky he’s not calling the law down on you now after all the havoc you caused.”
“Thank you for your concern.” Scorn laced each word she uttered. “However, since our association has come to an end, I find I no longer need to listen to your advice.” She dismissed him with a haughty sniff. “Driver? Let us be off.”
The man gave Stone a sympathetic shrug then clicked his tongue and set the team in motion. Stone stepped away from the carriage and moved back toward the house. A dark figure separated itself from the hickory trees lining the right side of Dorchester Hall and disappeared around the back. Ashe. He would follow the carriage on horseback, ensuring no harm came to Charlotte. Stone wasn’t about to take any chances.
Striding up the front steps, he set his jaw. Stage One was complete. On to Stage Two.
By the time Charlotte reached the Sunny South Boarding House, she finally had her emotions back under control, though her concern for Stone and Lily still ran close to the surface. She had spent the majority of the carriage ride in prayer for their safety and was determined to leave their care in God’s capable hands, yet her hard-won peace felt as fragile as a dew-drenched spider’s web.
She thanked the driver then headed up the steps and into the boarding house parlor. A young woman who’d been sitting on the sofa near the hearth jumped to her feet. “Is it done, then?”
Charlotte smiled at Belinda Ashe, completely sympathetic to the worry etched along her brow. “The first step is finished,” she said with a nod. “Your husband should be along shortly.”
Belinda’s petite shoulders relaxed. “Thank heaven.” She shook her head at herself. “I don’t know why I worked myself up into such a state. Robert’s been on much more dangerous missions than this with the Rangers. It’s just that this was the first time since his injury, and I worried . . . well . . . it seems foolish now.”
Charlotte crossed the room and clasped the woman’s han
d. “It’s natural to be concerned for a loved one’s safety. Even if that loved one is a highly trained Texas Ranger. It simply means you care.”
“Do you worry for Mr. Hammond?” Belinda asked, peering at her with a look that was far too perceptive.
Charlotte squirmed slightly, her borrowed mourning dress suddenly feeling a touch too tight. “Of course,” she admitted, ducking her head. “He is risking much to help us. But it is Lily’s safety that weighs heaviest on my heart. Leaving her in that house was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“My Robert will look after her,” Belinda stated emphatically, squeezing Charlotte’s hand. “No harm will come to her on his watch.”
“Lindy’s right, as usual.” A masculine voice rumbled from the doorway.
“Robert!” Belinda squealed, dropped Charlotte’s hand, and ran to her husband. He swept her up in an embrace so strong it took her feet from the floor.
“You haven’t been sitting in the parlor frettin’ all morning, have you?” Robert Ashe set his wife on her feet and gently tweaked her nose. “A less confident man might find such a thing insulting.”
“Confident?” Belinda made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “Arrogant, more like. Sometimes I’d swear that limp of yours exists solely to increase your swagger.”
Charlotte looked away from the pair. Despite their playful banter, she could sense the true affection they shared. It exuded from their hidden glances, from the way she looked him over to assure herself he was hale and whole, the way he couldn’t seem to stop touching her—the finger skating down the slope of her nose, the hand to her back, his leg brushing her skirt. It stirred a troublesome longing in her heart and pictures of Stone in her mind.