His Heart's Revenge (The Marshall Brothers Series, Book 2) Page 30

  "Really?" Katy had his full attention. "And why did he think that?"

  "Because he was responsible for your capture. I have no idea how he managed it, but he admitted as much to me." She frowned. "You do not seem surprised."

  "I'm not. He was the first person I thought of when the patrols found me so easily. I expected Cougar would want some kind of revenge; I miscalculated how swiftly he could act."

  "But I thought you blamed me."

  He shook his head. "You and your mother and sister may have had a great deal to do with what happened at Chancellorsville that day, but nothing that was in that dispatch you copied was responsible for my capture. That could have only been the colonel."

  "Why have you never done anything?" she demanded, her eyes flashing. "Or is it just that I was an easy target for your revenge?"

  Logan remained calm in the face of her anger. He finished chewing slowly. "As to your first question, who says I have never done anything? As to your second, a lot of years went by before I found you. That hardly made you an easy target."

  She looked at him suspiciously, ignoring half of what he said. "Whatever you did to Richard Allen could not have been very effective. He didn't even know you were alive."

  "When the scandal involving Congressman Allen breaks, it is going to make the crimes the Times uncovered at Tammany Hall seem petty. This is not state government now. This is national government—Grant's administration. Allen's been lining his pockets with bribes and kickbacks. He's knee-deep in graft. When this all comes to light in the Chronicle, the Cougar is going to know that Logan Marshall did not die in Libby Prison." He stabbed at a potato and a chunk of meat, darting a glance at Katy. "My revenge may not be swift, but it's sure."

  "Yes," she said. "It is that."

  They finished their meal in silence.

  It was almost eleven before Victoria went to sleep for the night. Katy sat back and watched, waiting to see who would tire first—Logan or his daughter. Finally it was Victoria, but only just.

  "You do not have to help me with my lines, Logan," she said when he stifled a yawn. "Really, I will finish studying in my bedroom, and you can go to sleep here on the settee." She started to get up, but Logan waved her back down. He picked up the script from her lap, thumbed through it, and sat on the floor at Katy's feet. She lifted her legs and curled them to one side so Logan could lean back comfortably. The back of his head rested against her knees. Katy resisted the urge to straighten the strands of dark hair that Victoria had ruffled. "Start with the second scene. That is the first time I am on stage. Just read a few lines before my part."

  Logan did, and then he let Katy's voice wash over him like a cleansing rain. He closed his eyes, relaxing, and missed his cue.

  "Logan, you are too tired to do this. I will—"

  "No." He blinked hugely and worked his jaw back and forth a few times. "I want to do this. I like listening to you. You are very soothing."

  "I am not supposed to put the audience to sleep, you know."

  "I'm ready now," he said. He gave her the next line.

  At some point during their rehearsing, Katy slipped to the floor beside Logan. A little later they were leaning against each other, shoulder to shoulder. Then Logan took off his jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and stretched out. It seemed the most natural thing in the world that his head should lay in Katy's lap.

  "I do not understand you at all," she said quietly when it was clear he had fallen asleep. Now she did not resist touching him and her fingers smoothed the crown of his hair. "Not at all."

  Katy took the script from his hands and put it down. She leaned back, resting her head against the settee, and closed her eyes. She was asleep in minutes.

  It was nearly eight when Logan woke. He groaned as he moved slowly and took inventory of stiff and aching muscles. It took a moment for Logan to orient himself. The last time he had slept this close to the ground he had been a prisoner. He sat up, pushing at the blanket that was tangled around his hips and thighs. His clothes were hopelessly wrinkled, and he was still wearing one shoe. Logan found the other one under the settee. He put it on and rose cautiously to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck while he rotated his head. He winced as vertebrae cracked.

  Logan wanted to soak his head in a pot of coffee. He would never survive another night on the floor. He thought about the bed in Katy's room, big enough for sharing, and he swore softly. The floor was likely to be his bed for some time to come. Folding the blanket, Logan dropped it on the settee and went in search of his daughter.

  Victoria was not in her basket or anywhere else in her room. For a moment Logan knew complete and overwhelming panic. When reason asserted itself, Logan went to Katy's bedroom and opened the door without knocking. The sight that greeted him made his mouth go dry. He could not have looked away if someone had leveled a gun at his head.

  Katy was lying on her side in the bed. Sunshine poured through the lace curtains in the window, dappling her reclining figure with white light. The first four buttons of her cotton nightshift had been loosened to bare one breast. Victoria lay protectively in Katy's shadow, nestled in the curve of her mother's body. Her tiny fist pressed the smooth, taut skin of Katy's breast while she suckled.

  Katy looked up and saw Logan standing in the doorway. He looked the way she imagined she had looked yesterday when she had first seen him with Victoria in the garden. The light in his eyes spoke of wonder, of magic. It might have even spoken of love.

  "Come in," she said, gesturing toward the bed. "I have tried to wean her now and again, but our morning time is still very special to us. This is our first cuddle. We make plans and giggle and sometimes she lets me sleep a little longer."

  Logan sat down gingerly, careful not to disturb mother or daughter. "She is very dainty, isn't she? She just sips."

  Katy nodded, smiling. "Mmm. In the beginning I thought she wasn't getting enough milk, but apparently this is just her way. It is the only thing she does in a ladylike manner."

  "I am beginning to appreciate that," he said, thinking back to all the demands Victoria made on him yesterday. She was particularly vocal about her displeasure. It was difficult to equate this baby, snuggled so contentedly at her mother's side, with the one who howled when he put her to bed last night. He brushed his daughter's cheek with the back of his forefinger. "Mrs. Castle will be here this afternoon, you said?"

  "Mmm-hmm. If you will pardon me for saying so, Logan, you look like hell."

  "The floor was a trifle... floor-like."

  "Washington has a number of hotels and boarding houses. You would be more comfortable in any one of them."

  Logan knew where he would be most comfortable but that invitation was not likely to be offered any time soon. "Thank you for the blanket."

  "You should thank Victoria. It was hers and it was handy."

  "I was not very helpful last night. I am sorry about falling asleep on you."

  "That's all right."

  Victoria moved a little restlessly and broke contact with Katy's nipple. A pearl drop of milk glistened on the tip. Before he considered the wisdom of his action, Logan's finger moved from Victoria's cheek to Katy's breast. A shudder went through Katy, a deep, abiding ache that had nothing to do with the sensitivity of her skin. It was a reaction of sight, seeing Logan's beautiful hand, with its long, lean fingers touching her breast with the same tenderness he had just used with his daughter. Katy watched, entranced, as the droplet of milk bubbled on Logan's fingertip and he lifted it to his mouth.

  He tasted it with the tip of his tongue.

  Victoria was still hungry, and she let both her parents know it, breaking the spell that misted around them. Katy was the first to tear her eyes away. "Excuse me," she said, barely able to hear her own voice. "I have to turn over. Victoria wants—"

  Logan nodded, picking up Victoria and cradling her in his arms until Katy had turned on her other side. Leaning over her, he put his daughter beside Katy when she uncovered her other
breast. He sat there a little longer, looking at the sunshine caress Katy's shoulder and listening to the dainty wet suckling of his daughter, then without a word, he left.

  Mrs. Castle appeared at two, just as Katy was readying to leave for the theatre. She tried to explain everything to the woman but finally gave up when Mrs. Castle simply emitted a series of disapproving clucks and clicks and shook her head repeatedly. Logan came up behind Katy, rested his hands on her shoulders, smiled the smile that had kept him in his housekeeper's good graces for years, and promised he would explain everything to Mrs. Castle's satisfaction. Just a trifle uneasy about what he might say, Katy nevertheless allowed herself to be gently pushed out the door.

  Rehearsal did not go well. Katy could not seem to get her lines right. Once she had the director's attention, he kept singling her out all afternoon for even the most trifling of mistakes. Donna Mae was all sympathy, but her knowing, sideways glances and secretive, self-satisfied smiles did not ease Katy's mind. The older actress was looking so pleased, Katy expected her to say that Logan's arrival in Washington was her idea in the first place.

  The evening performance of Frisco Gold, a slightly ribald and comic tale about miners, bawds, and claim jumping in the early days of the California strike, went much better. The theatre was filled to near capacity, and Donna Mae's entrance as the owner of a boarding house—as it was euphemistically called—brought a long round of approval from the mostly male audience. Katy played one of the female "boarders." It was not a demanding role, and Katy had a lot of time backstage to mull over her poor work at rehearsal. When she returned home, she was discouraged and tired.

  Logan met her at the door, holding Victoria, and ushered her inside. He helped her off with her cloak. "Did you walk or take a cab home?"

  "I walked," she said, untying the ribbon of her bonnet. She laid her hat on the newel post and went into the parlor. "I always walk. It is a perfectly reasonable way to go from one place to another."

  Logan looked down at his daughter and raised both eyebrows, silently asking her what he had done wrong. "Do you want something to eat or drink? I could get—"

  "How long are you going to be here, Logan?" she said, cutting him off. "What gives you the right to come here and turn my life upside down again?"

  "You can ask me that when I am holding my daughter?" he asked softly.

  "She is my daughter." Katy's hands slipped under Victoria and took her away from Logan. "You may have fathered her, but you are not her father. I named her after her father. It is only because you were so hell bent on revenge, that Victoria is here at all. You never gave a thought to the consequences of your act; you admitted as much to me yesterday morning. She does not belong to you; she belongs to me. Do you think wanting is enough for either of us?"

  Katy turned her back on Logan as Victoria began to fuss and cry. "Hush, baby. Hush... Mama's not angry with you."

  "Katy..." Logan took a few steps toward her.

  She could feel him close to her, too close. Katy spun around and glared at him. "I wish I had never wanted you. I am talking about the first time we were together—the time I came to you. I know what it seemed like afterwards, but that doesn't make it so. Until Aunt Peg called for you to come out of that hayloft, I had no idea she knew you were there! I didn't leave her on the way to church because I planned to keep you from escaping. I did not even suspect you were planning to go. I came back because I lay awake the night before, thinking about you and wondering what it would be like to kiss you and touch you and..."

  She fell silent as heat rose from her neckline to the crown of her head. Victoria had stopped crying, but her eyes were still dewy with tears. She regarded her mother solemnly. "I thought you were my one chance to learn what happened between a man and a woman. That's why I came to the loft. It was not to detain you or trap you or send you off to Andersonville. I came for reasons that had nothing to do with the war."

  Logan felt Victoria's eyes shift to him, as if she were waiting for him to defend himself. "Your aunt told a different story, remember?" he said. "She said you did what you had to do to keep me there."

  Katy's jaw stiffened and a muscle jumped in her cheek. "What was she supposed to say? 'Oh, excuse my niece—she's a slut'? Aunt Peg was trying to protect my reputation! She didn't want anyone to think I had willingly consorted with the enemy. Perhaps I should have spoken up and told the truth then, but it wouldn't have helped your case. I did what I thought was the best thing: I told Aunt Peg she arrived too late and that you could have fathered a child. I begged her not to let the others hang you.

  "I cannot change what happened to you in Andersonville. I cannot make it right or make it up. But I am damned if I am going to suffer any more at your hands because I did not let you die!" She brushed past him and walked quickly out of the room.

  * * *

  After giving Victoria her night feeding and putting her to bed, Katy got her own bedclothes and took them to the kitchen, where she prepared a bath for herself. Dragging in the copper tub from the back porch, Katy filled it with hot water and bath salts and had a long soak.

  When Katy returned to her bedroom and stood on the threshold, Logan was half-sitting, half-leaning on the windowsill, his back supported by the window. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and in his hands he held a black lacquered box.

  "Why have you kept this?" he asked.

  Katy dropped her clothes on the bed and tightened the sash of her dressing gown. "You had no right to go through my things. What were you looking—"

  "This," he said. "I was looking for this. I wondered if you still had it. I noticed it before in your hotel suite. You did not have it hidden away then."

  "Kindly remove yourself from my room."

  Logan pushed away from the sill and took a step toward the bed. He opened up the box and dropped the contents on the coverlet. Out fell a kerchief, a spool of blue thread, two needles, a lice comb, chalk, six marbles, a watch fob, a razor-sharp spoon, and a deck of cards. "Except for the cards, which you gave me, this represents the sum total of my existence in Libby Prison," he told her. "This box was the most important thing I owned. I think I would have murdered any man there who tried to take it away from me." He dropped the box and picked up the marbles, rolling them back and forth in his palm. "Six marbles. I would have killed to keep two glassies and four aggies. Can you imagine any man's life being worth only six marbles? Why did you keep the box all these years, Katy?"

  Stricken by the gentle appeal in his voice, Katy looked away. "If you will leave my bedroom, then I will." She turned on her heel and went to the hallway linen cupboard. After taking out a pillow and two blankets, she went to the stairway and started down the steps.

  Logan stopped her when she was almost at the bottom, pinning her to the wall. Her hair was still damp from her bath and she hadn't yet braided it for bed. It was seldom that he ever saw her with her hair unbound. Honey-colored tendrils brushed her cheeks and fell softly against her neck. Just looking at Katy, her beautiful eyes searching his face, her lips, pink and parted, Logan felt the return of an all-too-familiar ache.

  The narrow stairway was dimly lit and the bowed steps made their balance precarious at best, but these were secondary considerations to Logan now. He tore the pillow and blankets from her arms and pressed his body to hers, holding Katy's wrists at her sides. "Why must you make everything so difficult?" he asked, his voice husky.

  Katy ducked her head to one side, trying to avert Logan's mouth. She felt his lips on her cheek, her ear. He accepted the long line of her neck as though she had offered it to him. The touch of his mouth on her throat made her whimper weakly and close her eyes. She tried to push him away and found that his hold was secure. "No, Logan," she whispered. "Please don't do this to me."

  "What am I doing to you?" His mouth slid to the hollow of her throat. His tongue made a damp line from there to the neckline of her gown.

  There was a trace of despair in her voice. "You a
re making me want you again." She tried to shake him off.

  Logan held her firmly but carefully pulled her with him as he sat on the steps. "Is that so horrible?" His teeth tugged at the shoulder of her robe and nightgown.

  "No... yes..." Her breath came in a short sob. "What are you doing?" She felt his warm breath on her bare shoulder, then his mouth. The rough pad of his tongue scraped her skin with its delicious heat.

  "Tasting you," he said. Her skin was smooth and pale as cream. Her hair brushed his cheek and the fragrance excited his senses. Logan groaned softly. "Do you hate it?"

  "I want to hate it." Which was not the same thing at all, she thought miserably. She bent her head and found the tip of his ear with her mouth. Her tongue traced the curve.

  Logan raised his head. He searched out her eyes, held them. "Oh, God, Katy," he murmured. Then his mouth found hers and he kissed her with bruising passion. She opened her lips to him and gave him the deep, hungry kiss he sought. His hands eased up on her wrists, and he felt her fingers slowly climb the length of his arms until they circled his neck and threaded at the back of his head. She pressed him closer, and when the feverish kiss broke, it was Katy who pulled him back.

  Logan's heartbeat thundered in his chest. He pressed his hands at the small of Katy's back and tried to bring her body flush to his. He heard her wince and let her go. The huskiness in his voice didn't mask his concern. "Did I hurt you?"

  Katy was equally breathless. "The step... my hip..."

  "Up?" he asked, thinking of bed.

  "Down," she said. "We're closer."

  Logan stood, grabbing a blanket in one hand and Katy in the other. He pulled her down the last few steps and into the parlor. There was a lamp burning on one end of the table. Its light was sufficient for Logan to see the proof of his kisses on Katy's mouth. He folded her in the circle of his arms and pressed another kiss to her lips.

  She helped him out of his clothes, eager to feel the smoothly sculpted muscles of his back and chest with her fingertips, with her mouth. Her nightshift and robe were discarded as well.