The Charleston Chase (Phantom Knights Book 2) Page 25

  “Why?” Sam asked, suspicious.

  Bess looked me in the eyes. “He was working for Levi. Levi did not betray us, Jack. He has a deeper plan against the Holy Order.”

  Suspicion of my own coupled with a little disbelief shot through me. “Why would he not tell us?”

  Bess touched my arm in the way she did when she wanted me to know that she was in earnest. Her voice was soft so only those close could hear. “Because he saw his way to greatness. You know that he has always been searching for a way to prove himself.”

  It was as Bess said. Being the youngest member of our team, Levi was always trying to prove his worth.

  Leo gave us a report that Guinevere had come running through the yard telling the Holy Order’s guards that we were friends and only to harm the royal guards. They all had worked together to take out the remaining royal guards as Guinevere entered the barn.

  Leo pulled me aside while Sam demanded to know what had happened in his home. “I spoke with your lady for a moment. She said to tell you that she would get word to you as soon as she was able.”

  Thanking Leo, I felt a deep pull on my heart, that we were one step closer to the end. One step closer to achieving what my father had wanted three years ago. We had all the members of the Holy Order, except Harvey, whom we would find. Guinevere was on our side; Levi had not betrayed us, and Bess was safe. If the look on Sam’s face was any indication, Bess was not only safe, but shortly to become a married woman. At long last.

  Chapter 24

  Bess

  When we returned to Charleston, Sam insisted that the whole team stay at his house. He claimed it was because of the threat Harvey presented to us all. I agreed because the others did, and I wanted to be near my brother.

  It had been a week since they rescued me; since Harvey and Guinevere escaped though I knew how instrumental Guinevere had been in my rescue. Jack was convinced that she was on our side. He claimed that Guinevere had gone with Harvey so she could discover where he meant to go, and then get word to Jack. How I hoped it was so.

  We spoke of Edith Harvey, and everything Jack told me about Edith being Guinevere’s sister made sense. I remembered Edith never meeting Guinevere’s eyes in society, her hostility toward her, but also moments when they laughed together. When Guinevere wore the yellow wig, it was true that they did look similar. Their eyes were different colors, but the shapes of their faces were the same.

  Edith had lived with Harvey, her supposed uncle, for as long as we knew them, since before the war. I did not know what had happened to her parents other than they had died when she was small. Edith required our protection, and Leo had offered to go to Philadelphia to fetch her. Jack was hesitant, and though he did not say so, I knew he was waiting to hear from Guinevere.

  Guinevere had been a player in Harvey’s game like the rest of us, though her part had been much worse. Jack needed to know that should Guinevere return, I would not stand in the way. She had tried to help me escape; she rescued me from a vicious attack, and she helped them rescue me; I would help her protect her sister.

  My brother was sure that the end was in sight—an end that I wanted no part of.

  So much had happened, and there were still some things that I needed to discuss with Jack. He was the only person I had told about the attack the day of my hanging, and Harvey’s subsequent reaction. As I told Jack, I endured some startling revelations. My need for justice, which had compelled me on as a Phantom for so long, was gone. The chase no longer held any appeal.

  After being awakened by Jack from nightmares the first three nights that we had been back in Charleston, we ended the night with him holding me as I cried, and sleeping beside me. I had talked out my feelings that nearly being ravaged a second time in my life had taken away my will to fight. Jack’s response when I asked if it made me a coward was what I needed to hear.

  “Cowardice is a lack of bravery, and that is not you. You have endured tremendous trials that would have broken anyone else, but not you. You have earned a lifetime of peace, Bess, and I swear that I will see that you have it.”

  Jack encouraged my need to leave the chase behind, going so far as to help me look for a house to let in the city. Remaining in Charleston was of the greatest import to me, for I needed to be near Sam.

  It had been seven interminable days since Sam kissed me. He had told me that he loved me when he held me on the floor of his barn. I had not had the chance to tell him of my own feelings, for his lips had been upon me in a frenzy. Having him love me, protect me, after what I had been through, gave me the strength to stay at the plantation until we had all of the Holy Order’s members loaded into a wagon escorted by several constables.

  Sam had been terribly frightened for me; I could tell it in the pressure of his mouth, in the way he held me as if I would disappear if he released me, but all of that seemed to have faded.

  For seven days, he had stared at me, not speaking about anything important, never being alone with me, but the intensity was back in his eyes. It was as if he were searching for something he had yet to find. I was swiftly becoming annoyed with the man. I did not know what went through his mind when I was near him. If he had changed his mind about me, I wanted to know so I could move back to Rose’s house.

  Sam was across the book room from me, standing over his desk with Jack at his side. They were going over a map, marking the areas they thought Harvey could have gone. His eyes met mine for a moment, and the heat from his gaze shot across the room, slapping me in the chest. But then he lowered his gaze, saying nothing, revealing nothing. I was only in the room because Jack was there, or so I kept telling myself.

  Jack looked up from the map, patted Sam on the shoulder, and left the room. Sam’s eyes rested on me again, but he made no move toward me.

  “Is there something you wish to say, or are you content to stare like a man without sense?”

  He smiled, the first real smile in seven days, and I fought to keep control. I wanted to kiss him, or kick him, or both.

  He moved toward me until he was standing before the settee. “May I sit?”

  I moved over to the furthest edge of the seat so he could sit, and no part of our bodies would touch. It did not work as he sat in the middle of the settee, his arm against mine.

  “Are any of your injuries paining you over much?”

  Turning to the side to look at him, he was leaning against the wall, facing forward. While he was not looking at me, I allowed my heart and mind to commit his profile to memory. The way he had a thin patch of expertly trimmed whiskers running along his jaw, across his chin. I loved the soft hair that ran in a perfect line across the skin above his upper lip and even the little patch that touched the dip in his chin. It was like an artist painted his beard on with delicate, even strokes. His head angled toward mine, and I met his gaze for a moment before looking away from him.

  Rubbing my neck, I replied, “Not over much. The harness took most of the brunt, but my neck does pain me a little where the rope was.”

  “Right here?” he asked as his thumb brushed along the base of my throat where the rope burn marked my skin.

  My eyes slipped closed as I allowed his touch to sink in, filling every inch between my neck and deep into my heart.

  When his finger left my skin, my eyes opened, my mouth forcing out the words, “Please allow me to thank you, most sincerely, for coming to my rescue.”

  “It is a life most worth rescuing.” He drew his eyes away from mine to look around the room. “Jack tells me you have found a house that you are considering purchasing.”

  Leave it to Jack to inform Sam of everything! I had hoped Sam would speak up before I went through with the trouble of buying my own home, but my hope proved was fruitless. Only action produced results.

  “I thought it time to have a home of my own,” I said.

  “You have made your decision then,” he said, rather dejected. “I should place my request before you now, for a dance when next you go into society
. I have no doubt, Elizabeth, that you will be showered with offers once it is known you mean to stay.”

  Elizabeth? Elizabeth! I rose and stomped away from him, fury, disappointment, love, all boiling inside me. When I reached the wall of windows that were covered with long red drapery, I swung around to face him, bumping into his chest as he was directly behind me. His hands lightly gripped my upper arms to keep me from stumbling. I shrugged his hands away and punched his stomach. He groaned and jerked forward a little, but it was not hard enough to hurt him.

  “You are so vexing!” I was beginning to shout. “I love you, Samuel Mason, but if you do not stop staring at me and start speaking to me I shall not be responsible for what I do to you.” I turned and started toward the windows.

  “I was trying to give you time,” he said.

  Spinning around, I faced him, feeling incredulous, indignant. “Time? I am not a clock. I do not need time!”

  His lips twitched, and I knew he was close to smiling. My eyes narrowed, letting him know that laughing at this precise moment would not be to his benefit.

  Though I was grateful for his thoughtfulness, I was angry at his lack of perception. I did not need time to myself, to dwell on all the hurts that I had endured. I needed him to hold me. I needed him to assure me that the danger could not touch me. I wanted his protection as well as his love.

  “I was trying to be a gentleman,” he replied.

  “If putting distance between us is being a gentleman, I much prefer the rogue,” I retorted, standing toe to toe with him as we had done many times before.

  “Taking advantage of you is not something I will do, Bess—”

  “Indeed?” I asked caustically. “What then were you doing when you announced, untruthfully I might add, our betrothal to the whole of your ballroom?”

  “It was perhaps not the best way to announce my intentions, but I want to marry you, Bess, and I could think of no other way of letting everyone know that you belong with me.”

  “I want to marry you,” I said honestly, “though I do not understand why you would want to marry me. I am far from any kind of perfection.”

  “Then, you are not truly seeing yourself.” He took my hand, clasping it firmly so I could not pull away, not that I tried. He led me out of the book room and into the foyer. He positioned me before the looking glass that hung on the wall near the front door. He rested his hands on my shoulders standing behind me, his head over my right shoulder. He stared at me through the glass. “Do you see it now?”

  Huffing in frustration, I shook my head. All I saw was the red burn on my neck from the rope, the bruises on my face from the attack. “I thought you were trying to show me my perfection, not my imperfections.”

  “Bess, no speaking, just look.”

  Doing as he instructed, I stared in the glass, first at my imperfections, then giving up on working out what he meant and shifting my gaze to his face. Standing there, silently regarding each other through a looking glass, we could have been a portrait. With my bruises and burns, we were an imperfect portrait, but what in life was perfect? We certainly were not.

  Perfect for each other, but beyond that...

  His lips tilted up as my eyes widened.

  “You knew then, at your party?” I asked, feeling incredulous.

  “I knew that you were perfect for me from the first time that we met, all those months ago in my uncle’s bedchamber, when you tried to shoot me.” My mouth opened as I gaped, and he laughed. “There is more. Come with me.” He pulled me away from the looking glass and back into his book room. At the drapery covering the windows for our protection, he pulled it back and opened the window.

  Stepping out of the house and onto the terrace, I halted, my jaw feeling slack.

  The garden had been transformed into a haven of beauty. There were lanterns hanging from the tree branches, lit by candles that cast a beautiful glow over the garden. Sam took my hand again, leading me down the steps and toward the stone bench. When we reached it, he had me sit. He walked around the tree and came back with a brown box.

  He lifted the lid on the brown box, but keeping it tilted so I could not see what was inside. He pulled out a soiled handkerchief, and I felt my brows rise as high as they could.

  “I am not usually a sentimental man, but when I first met you, I knew that I wanted something to remember you by, so I kept this.”

  It had dark smudges on what was once white cloth. I did not know what to say, mostly because I had no notion of what it was supposed to mean. Sam laughed.

  “This was what I used to wipe the soot off your face before I kissed you.”

  Unable to control the bubble that came up, I laughed. It was a perfectly ridiculous thing to have kept.

  He lifted the lid again. “This you will remember,” he said as he brought forth my pistol.

  Smiling, I held it. “You stole this from me and then returned it with that letter.”

  “Bess, I wanted this here because I want you to know that though there may be times when we feel like fighting with pistols at dawn, I would never hurt you. I promise that I will spend the rest of my life fighting at your side if you will have me.”

  “Of—”

  “I am not finished,” Sam said, interrupting what I was trying to say. I laughed before biting my lip to keep from talking.

  He pulled a letter from his box and handed it to me. Opening it, I read the words, then reread them. It was his formal resignation from the Phantoms, dated a week after I arrived, long before we knew that the Phantoms were disbanded. My heart was beating painfully swift, but I stared at him silently, waiting to hear his explanation.

  “When you arrived, you brought life back to me, Bess. For the first time, I enjoyed being the leader of the Phantoms because it meant I could see you.” His thumb stroked my cheek. “It was for that reason that I waited to post my resignation, but it was your arrival that made me choose that course.

  “I want you to understand that I did not come to this decision lightly. I weighed each side, to come to the realization that there were no sides. It was you, any way I looked.” He kissed my hand that was clutching the letter. “I love you, Bess, and for that reason I will not be aiding in the search for Harvey.”

  The pain, the fear, the emptiness of the last several months fled as he brought our hands up to his lips. Like the night of his ball, he kissed my knuckles, each one slowly, his hot breath sliding down my arm and warming my soul.

  “Will you marry me, Bess?”

  I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him, feeling both light and full at the same moment.

  Into my hair, he asked, “Am I to take this as acceptance?”

  I laughed and moved my hands to his shoulders. “Yes! I want nothing more than to be your wife.”

  His forehead touched mine as he sighed, and I felt it all the way to my toes. He had been nervous, and it made my stomach flutter. He lowered his lips to mine and held them there for a long moment, our breath and hearts interweaving in a bond that could never be broken. A wall went up around my heart, but unlike the times in my past, this wall was completely made of Sam and not disappointment and pain. He was allowing our hearts to connect, staking his claim that could never be disputed. Our noses brushed. He smiled.

  “I want to be married soon,” he said. When I agreed, he kissed me again.

  “May?” I asked.

  “I was thinking the end of April,” Sam said.

  “That is in two weeks!” I nearly shrieked.

  Sam laughed, pulling me against him. “It shall be as you wish.”

  “I must give my mother enough time to return.”

  Sam’s shoulders shook, and I looked up at him. He pointed to something over my shoulder, and I turned.

  Standing inside the book room window was Jack and my mother. Her black hair was swept up, her blue eyes soft.

  I sucked in my lips and bit them, trying not to cry, but I could not stop the tears from flowing. I started toward my mother, who ha
d stepped onto the terrace, but I stopped and turned back to Sam. I grabbed his hand and pulled him with me, his laughter filling my soul. When we reached my mother, I released his hand and threw my arms around her. She had tears on her cheeks, and I knew that she had been told at least some of what had happened.

  Mother reached out for Jack, who was standing near, and pulled him into our embrace, and then I felt Sam pressed against my back as Mother’s hand pulled him in with us.

  “My family,” Mother whispered.

  She released Jack and Sam and then stepped back as she held me out to look at me. Her eyes narrowed on the rope burn around my neck and the bruises on my cheek and temple. She bit her full bottom lip to keep from crying. I was proud of her when she held herself together. She kissed my cheek.

  “Now, my children, let us discuss wedding plans.”

  “Wait,” I said, looking from my mother to Sam and back again. “How did you know if you only just arrived?”

  “My darling son-to-be came to me in March, requesting to marry you. When I gave my consent, he brought me with him to Charleston.”

  Jack laughed. “He is nothing if not prepared, Bess.”

  I tilted my head to look at Jack. “How long have you known?”

  Jack smiled. “Not nearly as long as our mother has known. Sam told me of his intentions—told me mind you, not asked my permission—after you were captured by the Holy Order. You have your hands full with this one, Bess.” Jack’s smile was infectious. “I told him you would marry him only if our mother was here.”

  Sam took my hand, kissing the back.

  “I needed time did I?” I asked, my brows rising.

  “I had thought so until Jack set me straight. He told me that the only time you needed was with me.”

  “My brother has much wisdom,” I said, almost bereft as I thought about all he had done for me.

  He slowly leaned down until I could feel his breath against my cheek. “As I said, soon,” Sam whispered, stroking my hot cheek with one finger.